At 73

I rise
to fall
no more

kiss away
doubt and
cliche

moving inward
as I fan outward
beyond imaginary
boundary

venturing to the
core knowing the
will of my
soul

conditions I make
are mine
to hold and possess
in the narrowing inverval
accorded my
time

Tactile Image

sometimes it’s
so close
it can
be sensed

the image
dissolving into
the solvency
of essence

the stylus
etches its
way through
a labynrith

of dreams
enveloped in
possibilities yet
to be

we are
what we
sought to
become but

the mirror
knows what
is yet
to be

Listen

to see
is to
know

to listen
is to
sense

the essence
of
silence

Where

where
if not here

why
if not now

are we
the one
we know

what rests between
what is and
what is not

a void to
be filled when
emptiness contains all
that can be held
but not possessed

how will you know
when the last word
will be heard

Effigy

as this
is written
an image
fades into
an opaque
transparency

a gray
countenance gazing
at the
possibility of
transcendance into
the fixed
aura of
redemption where
despair clings
to words like
a sodden
mossy blanket
suffocating
light

what devours
commands the
transient hour
molding light
into a
graven image
whose likeness
is found
in mirror
shadow
and crag
etched into a
mottled wall

Saturday Morning Missionaries

they move in
on a Saturday
morning before noon
with their pamphlets
and bible ready
to dispense lessons
in guilt doubt
futility and death
all in one blow
as I reel
from each punch
to the soft
spot in back
of my soul
while they prattle
on in their
confident and commanding
manner rattling off
arcane questions Reinhart
Niebuhr couldn’t answer
attempting to entrap
and ensnare me
in a knot
of fear at
my weakest moment
with the question:
“If God is good
why is there
evil in the world”?
to which I reply
“To thicken the plot”

For A Bottle of Wine

years of study
practice earnest apprenticeship
dedicated to the quest
to be the best
given away for
a bottle of wine

preparation sacrifice dedication
performances trying circumstances
recompense credited to
“experience” given away for
a bottle of wine

endless nights riding
trains through barren
plains chasing pieces
of dreams that
vanished in a bottle of wine

critical abuse ignorance
anxiety fear and doubt
all failed to ignite
but for persistence
and given away
for a bottle of wine

trying circumstances testing
resolve of other's
inability to adapt
ignored but for
a bottle of wine

others won prizes
celebrated in faint
praise thinking one
day it would be I
gave it away for
a bottle of wine

time was kind
my way made
unswayed by errant
dreams and shallow
ideals keeping will
coping and enduring
without yielding to
fickle whim faithful
to the last
bottle of wine

what are dreams
but to be
squandered in
quest trial and
error testing the
best discarding the
rest to be
savored in the
last glass left
in a bottle of wine