Month: April 2024

I don't speak your
language, sir.

Twice divorced.

A million miles away,
the terrain looks the same.

We are all your sons and daughters now.

April 4, 2024

I heard once the story
of an unspoken serenity

in the smallest voice
of an alien language

tuned out from inside
an internal dial

a frenzied motion to
a place of peace

in the fraction of a second
between constriction

and expansion in the little
halflife remembered sound

unforgotten sleep
awakens me

to all
that isn't me

April 4, 2024

A man proposed that
marriage leads to faith,
but I have my doubts.

April 4, 2024

I spend all day in a windowless
room doing meaningless work
in a meaningless room doing
windowless work around
meaningless people with
windowless eyes around
windowless people with
meaningless eyes

I spend all day
days gone by
bye day
hidden
away
from the sun
and the air and
the rhythm of life

I spend all day
in my head
with a head
full of longing
for a window
into the heart
of the world

for the meaning
of the skip

I skip the eight and the forty
for the blip of a laugh
in a meal with the
flick of a switch
and the thump
of a bus

I spend all day
far away
from the tolling
of the time clock 

aware I wonder
will I ever wander
another stream to
hear you laugh
feel your
fingertips

touching
fingertips

we look up
into brightest blue sky

April 4, 2024