Tag Archives: uncharacteristic hope

A Small Remnant, A Small Revision, A Reclamation

on my driveway
a small cloud of flies above
a small drift of feathers
in blue and gray.  

a small remnant
and a small 
a reclamation

of what is always left over.

flies are sometimes
the sole reason I feel
hope — 
a small buzz of hope only
as i am unsurprisingly 
somewhat reserved
in my enthusiasm 
for any hope
found that way
because of what
must precede it.

the flies
live and breed
where death is.
they follow death
and rise from it.

i must take my hope,
however sticky,
however distasteful, 
where I find it.


A certain level of fatigue
has become required
for credibility.

Express your freshness
and willingness to get going on something
and you will be made to feel small.

There will be disbelief
followed by knowing chuckles
and head nods, murmurs of

“newbie, naive, that’ll change,” perhaps
a grudging offer from someone
to take you under their cynical wing.

Don’t do it.  Don’t fall in.
Run screaming from them and don’t lose
a minute of sleep over it.

You’re wide awake and you still believe
in daylight and morning.  Hold on to that.
As far as can be told, there are no plans

for that to ever end while we’re alive.
You’re awake. Stay awake. You’re refreshed.
Stay refreshed. Dark things are afoot, it’s true,

but you shine, and you reflect so much else that shines
that there’s a chance, a real chance, 
that some part of what we need dwells with you.