A muffled sound,
At a distance:
A gunshot,
Or that book
Knocked off the
Bedside stand.
I nod off.
Uncertain.
A writers

Regret

On the balcony,
Looking into the distance.
In the silence
My day dissolves
Into thoughts.
I need words!
But all I get
Images,
Figures that huant:
‘I shouldn’t have’
‘Why did I.. ‘
I bit my lips,
Tighten my fist,
Stay put.
It all washes over me,
Soo cold.
When the words come
I write them down,
Then read—
And shudder.

An Owl

I saw an owl today.
It zapped past,
Right above traffic.
I thought that unusual.
Sure, could have
imagined, but no.
I saw what I saw.
That unmistakable
circle of white,
Fly
under street light.

SUDDENLY

When it all goes dark.
I’ll have to live
From the inside out.
Leverage all I’ve known.
Not expecting to come
Into some light, it’s
About adjusting.
Only in this way can I be reborn–
The purpose of it all.
Life.

Gone

Everyones left…
The grass sighs in relief.
Litter everywhere.
Lying in a box. Staring up
But cant see a thing,
It’s covered in dirt.
She not here, not anymore.
Heaven, the vicar proposes.

Everyones left. It’s cold –life goes on.
Wish we could sit, talk
About stuff, about life.
The fresh dirt makes for a cushy seat.
It’s weird. He’s weird. He’s saying:
“I never did figure out this, life.

She’s here now. They’re looking in,
See the lighted windows, imagine
The warmed room, the cold
In their heart– the pain.
Here it’s cold on the outside
Warm on the inside. She’s here.
But you can’t seat on a grave,
And she can’t be here.
The stars. The Chill. The quiet.
It’s conforting.
Lets catch up, reminisce:
Tell stories
Remember.
Our childhood.
Where did you go–why!?