Daily Archives: July 6, 2019

The Old Man Speaks Of War

I’ve seen a war approach before
and know how it made me feel;
I crackled with murky energy,
learned how to burn
and how to dodge burning.

I have gone to war before
and adored how it made me move;
I ran forward, stopped short,
cleaned and leaned upon my weapon, 
swallowed my fear,
freed the Evil in my hands.

I’ve come home from war before
and sat for hours staring into clouds,
drinks, eyes, mirrors, carved stones
and Tarot cards. It never felt like home
again, no matter what fortune told.

And now, here comes a war again;
I have no body to offer it; my hands can’t hold,
my feet won’t charge; 
my heart’s all for it
but my skin holds me back; 
if I had a child,

I’d offer it up to war:
I’d weep and wail but also,
I’d see that kid as my arm, my hand
stretched out to touch the old energy: 
cross my heart and hope to never die.


As Happy As A Dead Person

As happy as
a dead person

(specifically, that one
emerging from

the pile of leaves
in the corner lot).

That one whose face
has just been exposed

by this teensy tiny wind
that popped up just after dawn. 

The neighbors on either side
must either have known it was there

or have been improbably oblivious,
as that huge smile

took a while
to come to the surface

from the look of
the rest of the face,

all white and naked
bone. Setting speculation

on why it’s here
and how it went unseen

this long aside, 
can’t help thinking that

as happy
as it looks now to me

as it smiles and peers
black-holed out

of the oak and maple
clutter in the lot (which is

now I see also full
of trash bags and other

hopefully neutral humps
in the underbrush),

as happy as it appears
to me taking 

my plodding wobble 
of a morning walk

past here as I do
every morning,

that’s a level of happy
I could aspire to,

and after all these months
of unsteady and hurt,

I finally don’t care how
I might get there.