heat

debilitating, silent, smothering
breath-stealing, clothes-soaking
lung-frying dog-leveling

heat

stole up from the south
harbinger to thunder, hail, tornado
and other fun weather sports

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

selling

It was too hot
in the parking lot
the need for shade
was a case to be made
with no respect
for the architect

She was hauling
a black zippered nylon case
on dinky wheels
out of the Convention Centre

It looked like the end
of a very long useless
day in a long line
of very long useless days

It was too hot
in the parking lot
the need for shade
was a case to be made
with no respect
for the architect

Her shoes looked a little
too skuffed too high
her skirt was slightly askew
her hair a bit too red
her eyes a bit bagged

I could see
too many attempts
to attempt too much
you can face only
so much disinterest
so much rejection

And it begs one question:
who loves this woman?
and the answer
is no one, not even herself.

It was too hot
in the parking lot
the need for shade
was a case to be made
with no respect
for the architect

Posted in Boppin', Poetry | Leave a comment

Some idea

words come into my scattered
brain like light through a lens
my brain mediates and chatters
creates worlds and sends
living matter that matters
more than life
and less than light
for these words live on
when life has gone

Posted in aging, On the process of Writing, Poetry | Leave a comment