REFLECTING ON THIS STALL

August 22, 2017

“Under the willow tree I hide my mirror,

small enough to be mistaken for morning dew.

I look for a point of origin, something to explain how and why

we all must see it through.”          

 

 

Encased  in  impasse,

I couldn’t even eye other passengers

past my papers.

I wouldn’t watch what

my window offered:

small towns, & all their lights,

Reflections, inside, of us riding passersby.

We keep on sweeping by.

.

Inspecting  these all  aspects of my work,

Taking stock,    this stall  is a lock still.

Y’see, yesterday’s night

I ran nine yellow lights,

& Just as there were dares that didn’t time out right

I’ll just decide to still ride

 

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the sublime opening verse is from my favorite online poet

Allison Grayhurst, from “Eating From An Imaginary Spoon”  https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/168535/posts/1567304886

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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G L A R E

August 11, 2017

I’ve had a share of furtive glares & glimpses

Clandestine tiny glares & glances

I now redden to reminiscences

I’m now ready  to try new roads

Step surer into newer eventualities

Bet dearer  on far-fetched gains

I’m pretty sure to shift to uplifting new payloads

Pretty sure  no hurricanes

It could all work out,  take root,

It’d  adapt.

If I’d  freely feel  to enrapture your eye

& I  enchant  your  glare