Not Tonight

I'm here
and I want to write.

To put to words
the endless thoughts
swirling around
and through me
as darkness falls.

But my favorite ritual
of rearranging letters
and sounds to suit
the moment
is failing me.

It's no use,
the usual sorting
of syllables that so often
brings me back
to the here and now.

My compass points North tonight.
The needle unwavering.

So be it.

June 19th At Dusk

Front porch sittin'
Beer bottle sweatin' (ain't we all...)
Tides a-turnin'

Just me, here, in the dark,
that I can see, anyway.

But if I listen, there's me
and all the people closed up
in their little boxes all around,
air conditioners hummin' away.
There's them, too.

Oh, then there's me and that whip-poor-will
up there on the bluff, in the woods to the south.
He really, really knows what he wants.
I'd like to ask him how he's so sure of himself.
There's him, too.

And if I listen even a bit more closely,
well, there's me and my heart.
When it screams I don't listen, but
tonight it whispers and I can hear.
There's that, too.

Just me and them,
him and that,
front porch sittin'
beer bottle sweatin'
tides a-turnin'.

Be Where You Are

There is nothing more than this.

Don't wish away this stretch of road
even though the stones are sharp underfoot
and sand in the wind stings your eyes.

Feel the ache as you would the joy
for this is living. Savor the moment
for this, too, shall pass.

Some day the path may curve
and there may be lush grass underfoot
and sunlight in your eyes.

And you'll feel the joy as you did the ache
for this, too, is living,
yet this, too, shall pass.

But here, now, is as it is,
and no good comes from
dreaming of soft grass and warm sunlight.

Now is a time of sharp stones and sand,
and that is simply as it is meant to be for now.

Nothing to do but take it all in in as it comes.
Nothing to wait for, nothing to wish away.

There is nothing more than this.

Heat

Anger doesn't suit me.
Or serve me, or solve a thing.
But when that fire rises in my throat
and burns on my tongue,
sparks flying from my lips,
it is difficult to douse.
This day is so goddamned hot,
like the devil himself is
breathing down my neck.
Mind and body engulfed in flames,
cool detachment just out of reach.
Before long, a pile of ash.
Sweep it away.