Revenants
Our
dreams,
once
light years apart,
are
flotsam on the tides of time
that
carry us across the rippled surface
of
life
but
always hold back
shards
of the future so our meetings,
time
and again, will always hold surprises
and
we will be challenged
evermore
to explore the seams
of
our relationship, even as the moon
changes
its many faces
and
our chosen stars struggle to outlast
eternity.
Virtual Reality
Years before I learned
to write
I was taught not to fear
the letters the words the verse.
It was poetry; I was told
that it was real,
more real than the mystery
of creation.
The first poet, Adam,
fabricated names of things
and, lo, they were named.
This was after God photoshopped Earth,
plucked the trees and the birds
from a sky that was nothingness,
a sky that became
something, and like a poet God
put things in motion.
The firmament, lined up on the horizon,
gave fish water, and they swam;
gave animals land, and they explored
the four corners of Earth;
gave Adam the ability to write
and as time moved on,
poetry blossomed.
I
Do Not Understood Music
Whether
it is played slow as
mountains
moving toward valleys,
quick
as mosquito bites,
or
held captive
in sea
shells pressed against
my
ears.
Yet
music seems important
to those
who play instruments,
or
sing along
in
recording studios,
in
halls of worship
in a
shower – alone or ensemble.
On
paper
musical
notes appear to be sunning themselves
in
flat rows of little consequence
to
those of us
whose
communication is limited
to simple
words,
Who,
like branches of dead trees,
do
not oscillate
in
the thrum of wind that sets
insects
to flight or causes flowers
to
bow again and again
to
the whims of Nature’s conductor.
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