Tag: aging

Stone Lion

The face of the stone lion who surveys the back yard has turned white due to weather and time, two things I understand very little of, being neither meteorologist nor physicist.  I only know that he reminds me of a Celtic warrior painted up…

Of Time and Earthly Life

They are the children, and we their old, clutching mortal dreams like whirlwinds. The rich ruddy mortar of body and soul paves the good sturdy road with its twists and bends.   Wheels carve lonesome tracks in the mud on our way to empty…

Many Brothers

Connection erases age, weakens constraints, strengthens the bond of brotherhood. I have crossed many valleys. I have loved many brothers. Treetops creak and bang the way the screen door did in my own lost boyhood. A wind has risen.  Dying leaves pray for us…

Backbone

This poem first appeared in Red River Review in 2013. Backbone A favorite thing of mine, he said, is a hot drink in early morning, taken to cut through phlegm and shake rust out of the brain, usually around six o’clock.   And then…

Ladders

It’s hard to be sure if you’re climbing. You know, really going somewhere. Or are you just milling about as if you were at a cocktail party. Who can say in what direction you’re really moving? Could be sideways, or some off-the-charts geometric angle….

Let Me Not Wait

Let me tell you now how much I will miss you. Let me not spend another moment alive on this earth with words unspoken. Let me not wait until you are gone, as I’ve waited with so many now lost, and narrowed my eyes…

These Rising Rivers

My heart moves so fast that it almost has me scrambling after it.  But no, we are connected – it can only run so far before it’s left with no choice but to wait for me, jerked to a halt, a dog reaching the…

Ceramics

You never know when you might see yourself in the mirror – not glance, not look, but see – and what once seemed solid appears translucent.  What once looked like perfect strength, by common definition, now strikes you as fragile. The cup you are…

Might

You might go down to the oyster bar by the train tracks where they have the squat ketchup bottles, salty fries and cold beer.  Where the sunburned tough boys go after working outside all day, to get drunk and drop Spanish olives in their…

The Other Side of Years

You look so much like she did, I cannot stop watching. Mysterious, sweet, a little ragged, preparing coffee the same way, tilting your head the same way. Are the gods throwing dice?   To think it began the way it did, only to end…

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