Now I Will Listen to the Rain

Now I will listen to the rain.
In the quiet dark,
sometimes peace is born,
and all my thousand ruminations may,
contemplative for once,
receptive, not reactive,
stop
(and if only for this moment, that's enough),
each to listen for
its own
redemptive
drop.

January 30, 2009

Posting policy change

I've decided to experiment for a while with posting poems that I'm still working on. I'll indicate their "In Progress" status, and you are welcome to comment on them freely. If you like or don't like something about a piece, say so, and it may help me get to the finish line. Thanks.

Their Haven

I want to always be their haven
(though I am currently their clown).
If they ever need one
they should find in me
a harbor, where the water calms.


11/24/2008

Many Things are Fragments

Many things are fragments
that still contribute to a whole.
Not all broken things need mending.
Often, continuity persists
although the middle and the start
have traded places with each other
or the ending.
The trick is in re-blending,
but this time of fractured vision
calls for all our will and skill
if we're to aggregate a meaning
from the shiny, scattered pieces of our lives.


11/17/2008

We Live in Humble Houses - IN PROGRESS

We live in humble houses.
Our streets are patched and cracked.
But we are glad recipients of
each others' kindness and well-meaning gestures.

We Are On The Curve - IN PROGRESS

We are on the curve,
make no mistake,
and not its endpoint.
This graph won't fit the slide.
Resize it how you will,
the line goes on,
and all we are
at this or any other meeting
is the story of our race so far.


11/7/2008

The Leaves Are Etched

The leaves are etched into the street
in tesselations Escher might have sketched.
Printed there by rain,
and when the wind has pulled its proof
their negatives remain.


11/7/2008