Monthly Archives: September 2022

Tom Waits

The keys greet his fingers like an old dog
and together they make music,
strung along by a leash
though neither know who holds what end.
He speaks to his companion as he plays
an ancient fable that carries them away
to a far off place
filled with vagabonds and dreams
while we all,
                      the all of us
sleep better
with beautiful maladies painted
over the canvas of our fears.

Sympathy for the Living

Let’s not shed tears for the dead.
No amount of water will see them grow
they rest now comfortably in our memories;
living only in the brightest moments
and spoken of only fondly.
They have no due dates
no responsibilities
they need only absorb eternity
and to be absorbed;
embrace their greatest good.

Let’s not shed tears for the dead.
They will be more than we could
see more places than we will see
within and beyond this humble earth
a line without end
confined only by the scope of time
and the nothing that came before it
to briefly play with life and die.

Let’s not shed tears for the dead.
The horrors are only for the living.
That tragic awareness
a font of possibilities
crashing against clumsy hands
like an ocean seen from a prison window;
the air oppressively humid,
a square of light,
projected against a locked door
framing countless specks of mist
that float away – freely.

Let’s not shed tears for the dead;
only the living can experience loss.

Borders

There is a line.
On one side calm
the other tension
an invisible wall holding them back
because someone told them
there is a line
that no one can see
but all must honor,
like gods, ghosts, or mythos.

Violence lines up in its name
fearful eyes hoping the line will hold
bricks of faith – mortar of tradition.

When they fall
the world quakes
beneath the weight of our imaginations
violated.