unleashed

there is a sound

that panic makes

when pressed down

   hard

a high-pitched keen

not heard but

   felt

in teeth

and marrow



my grip will soon

or late give way

setting this force

   free

to run its wild

and manic course

until its fury’s

   spent



leaving me

to rock

and blink

amid debris

panting in its

   wake



(Recently reworked from older piece.)

for kramer

it’s okay, old friend,
if you cannot stand.
let me bring your dinner
closer. let me sit beside you
while you lick the bowl clean. here,
take a little water.

easy now, and I will lift
your fragile frame
from this hard floor
and set you back upon
your bed, your fur
and bones no burden to my arms.
my heart, another matter.

bear with me now before
you sleep. meet my eyes
with yours and let me hold
your head in my hands
for just a moment more.

gently now, I will unfasten
the collar against your throat.
there will be no need of it where you go.


my dear friend of almost 16 years



this

some poems
you do not write

you wait
hushed
as the soul
strains
its urgent
whisper

this

this

listen
and remember
this

rose bush in winter

leaves shriveled
    dark and sparse

skeletal mass
    of rattling thorn
    and branch

do not be deceived

it holds deep
    the heat
    and thrum
    of life

for a time

it holds deep

Reunion

We gave in that day
to laughter
long and delicious,
not at all our usual
smile-then-back-to-business.
No...

We lifted up a rare and
precious music
together surrendering to
simple delight
as the canopy of green spilled
innocence down in
droplets of blessing.

But the walls that had so long shielded my spirit,
built stone by stone of remembered pain,
mortared with shadows and secrets
by long labor of my own hands,
fell away
some way
in this Sharing.

Startled, my smile began to falter…

In that moment,

I saw you

for the first time
in years

and my heart swelled
to sudden pain,
unaccustomed
to the light.

the rabbit's lament

no more need
   to strain my neck
      looking back
         over my shoulder

no more need
   to run so hard
      to push my heart
         beyond its reach

the pain of piercing talons
almost a relief

pencil-thin line

I did well today.


   my finger lightly traces

     the ridge above my eye

       perfectly, pleasingly

      absolutely smooth

   as I reflect…


I did not cry today.

I did not yell.

I did not panic under pressure.

Yes, it was a good day altogether.


   my finger lightly traces

      the ridge above my eye

        still warm with the lingering sting

      of far too much attention

   as I wonder…


Will I do as well

tomorrow?

And how much time

might be required

for an eyebrow

to re-grow?