"The Quantum Clearing"

Walking the road, I noticed a tree in a yard-

Then I saw the vast forest beyond that scraggly statue.

The enveloping green mass had an unusual quality,

Behold! An apparent clearing-

Beamingly inundated with the virgin light of mourning.

 

I proceeded with my early tract,

Concerned that I had seem the unseen, and perplexed.

Then I blinked and knew.

This clearing was mine, made for me,

Eschewing the materiality of the known, for an unknown egress.

 

I rest my eyes now, confident that still sounds

From windless branches fill my consciousness with forgotten

Lullabies filled with empty promises and illusory dreams.

People die longing for nothing, why would life struggle anon?

Being discovers a way, even without course, reason, or helm of trust.

“Richard Parker”

Pushed.

Asked.

Excuses.

Avoided.

Make Up?

Lost.

Disappointed.

We all tend to do what we want to do.

Meet me in Church Sunday.

 

We are each of us a kernel of sand.

“The Adventure of the Big Hill”

Bandit was a good dog.

He was a morning patroller,

As many dogs are-

Notice them as you drive to work.

 

One early summer morning,

Bandit was tracking the scent of a cat

When suddenly a shadow scurried past his side,

The game was afoot!

 

Bandit gave chase, albeit he was no longer a pup.

He was deep in the woods near a wet weather spring.

The rustling braches ahead of him went uphill,

He knew where he was now, climbing the Big Hill.

 

The grey-streaked white/tan dog with the blue left eye

Now earnestly gives chase to the unknown racer on the Big Hill.

Bandit feels more alive now than when he lays at his food bowl-

He feigns interest when his Master offers evening platitudes.

 

Bandit tops the Big Hill and sees his opponent, a cat, a huge cat.

Bigger than any cat on a Meow Mix bag, a very LARGE cat.

“My adventure must now end, be it good, or be it bad,” thought Bandit.

He knew his match was standing before him, fatigued yet defiant.

 

Bandit knew no fear, and raised a practical paw and said-

“Be gone from this Big Hill and my domain, else I must kill you.”

The giant cat bared his fangs yet remained, staring curiously and said,

“I go this time challenger, the next time I may NOT!”

 

Both turn and amble down their opposite hill sides,

Bandit returns home to lie under his favorite bush.

When supper time comes, Bandit eats with a flourish.

He acknowledges his Master with a furtive glance, then a smile.

 

Bandit was a good dog.

“Orchard Bandits”

Bleak skylines offer nothing,

Like good rest or hot meal steam.

This troupe of four (remnant clan),

Move at random, without plan.

 

 He bears disappointment

Under his brow, head bent low.

His youthful smile now faded

-Memory pools well waded.

 

Mshe  keeps vying through pearl

Dreams worn within and without.

Pale worn crêpe newspaper dress,

-Striving for strength to confess.

 

Youth keeps both feet and eyes dry.

Hunger inside mimics stings.

Hope, running among fruit trees,

Eating apples in the breeze.

 

Baby coos at circling birds,

Unfettered by illusion.

Comforted by family,

She carries the hidden key.

“Remnants”

Leaving Englewood, I am the reiterate or!

Someone get me water.

We eat that which we cannot defeat!

I lost my appetite!

 

I am a remnant of

The “days gone by”,

Help me! Help me, Amadeus

I am adrift in the matrix!

 

This is like a roadside cross

Denoting senseless death!

A marker for the futility

Of doing what is right!

 

All things want the same,

They want your name,

I refute the dread while

I embrace the One.

 

We love what we understand,

We avoid the otherwise…

Love the inarticulate beggar,

Abhor our fate!

 

"Kenneth's in a Coma"

It looks bad.

Why was he out past 10 p.m.?

Buying vegetables to become one?

Kenneth never ran with the mumps…

 

Minivans never crash well,

Has anyone else noticed?

Trucks do, SUV’s too-usually…

Kenneth is in a coma.

 

Church, check!

Work, check!

Wife, check!

Coma, check!

 

Kenneth is in a coma,

And no one, not even the Mormons,

Can bring him out-

Magic Underwear fails sometimes.

 

Kenneth bought tomatoes,

He wanted fresh tomatoes!

He smashed the fresh tomatoes on

Four corners of his unconscious face.

 

No eggplant, nor mushrooms.

A few zucchini-why is that?

Did Kenneth feel a need to exceed?

The borders of his forced universe?

 

Kenneth is in a coma,

His wife remembers him with his best friend,

The gothic grocery clerk misses him-well almost!

Kenneth’s in a coma.

 

Tra la la la lurie,

Tra la la la lay,

Kenneth’s still in a coma,

On another Mother’s Day!