Write More Poems

You have become memory now
Framed in the limpid past
Held in my mind's eye
A painting hung in a dark corner
Forgotten from the last exhibit
A portrait among abstract expressions

Kinetic sculptures roam and
Act out the historic narrative
Of stories told and stories hidden
Too fragile for daylight
Shared only in shadowed spaces
To somnolent dreamers

One door opens another closes
Breaks the serenity of silence
A movement from room to room
Of shuffling steps along the hallway
The click of a light going on
Unseen behind the closed door

wood walls inside,
wild land outside.
large rooms with many uses.
we do not know all of them.
we find new rooms all the time.
today we found the kitchen.
there was a large sink,
made of wood,
like everything else
in the house. we were running water
in it, washing dishes - were they also wooden?
- when I woke up. I wanted to go back,
closed my eyes again after the alarm,
for all that nature had to offer,
and all that space, unclaimed, where
we could spread out and find
a place to be.

At night you can look straight into deep space
stars so far and numerous they seem a stain
the dark uncharted enormity

by day, neatly hidden away
behind a lovely blue wall, or
sullen or boiling gray mask

it would be too much all the time
too much always to take in
implacable maw of eternity agape

we look at night, when we're tired
blood's tide ebbing, wonder outpacing fear
we sleep, let the dreamer out to play there

What happened to authenticity
Grounded in a sense of being
Right here
In purposeful response
To time's swirling spiral
Now and now
Unbowed by public whims
In their hourly inconsistency
Speaking out freely
In distinctive clarity
To friend and stranger
About despicable behavior
Hidden behind celebrity

We are dreamers of dreams
Intersecting one another
In overlapping circles

We take tangential turns
To spin out our webs
For this and all moments