Tag Archives: nature

Everything Becomes Nothing

We abate
softly
into nothingness
into finality
into the darkness
beneath a great empty canvas
and so on this certain passing
I felt almost touched
and almost
momentarily elated
if you will
from the brooding vacuous maelstrom
that has become most days
it was somewhat like catching
the whisper of an echo
in a backroom
or hearing the flight
of a hummingbird
at the other end
of the garden,
catching a ghost
at the edge
of a photograph,
reaching out and
touching dust
floating in sunlight,
absorbing the strain
of a single violin
in a blazing symphony
or feeling the breeze
that barely bends the meadow.

As fleeting as fireflies
we become to each other.

Just give it a little time
and everything
becomes nothing.

Spring Lies Beneath Death And Distant Light But Yet I Dream

I dream of wild flowers scattered
across summer dresses

and moving rivers shattering afternoon light.

I dream of colour:
the world exploding into sunflowers.

God’s palette
is a sweeping meadow
and girl’s laughter.

I dream of jagged shores breaking waves
from which great symphonies arrive.

The Earth is not dead
beneath all this death.

Come
come closer
you far away light.

A Great Winter Has Swept Blue Through The City

A great winter has swept
blue through the city.

Stark frowns in cold sunlight.

Every lawn a pyramid
of old snow.

Warped roads
filled with holes
have warped minds.

Time hangs lifelessly
across the perimeters
of the night days.

Soon
melted deposits
into the high river
will run
right across your lives.

The air is changing
me
embracing temperature
I smile and welcome
a sole robin
to my yard
maybe the first.

Hello, old friend.
It’s been so long.

Hello.

They Have Never Had to Be Animals, Not Like Us

I have worked with several people
that have spent most of their lives
behind a broad desk
seated in a comfortable leather chair
with an undisputable air of casual ease about them
that most would most certainly consider enviable
as now even deep into their forties
they bear the faces of children
so much that even I standing beside them
look like an old gnarled lizard
that has been lying in the desert sun unmolested
for centuries.

They have faces that have never been
hit, never drowned in tears or spit upon
and because of that small things
seem to confound them as they chatter on
endlessly inside of their snow globes
about their driveways, diets and
personal trainers as they compare watches
and morning routines.

They have never had to worry about
their car not starting on the way to
a job interview that would decide
if they were going to eat
for the next month.

They have never lost a fight
because they have never been in one.

They have never had to steal
condiments from restaurants
or duct tape their shoes
never had to bang on somebody’s door
with a bat for mishandling their ex
or muscle their way into a room
full of strangers to settle a score.

They have never had to be animals
not like us.

I used to think that they were lucky
oh, so lucky to not have to endure
life’s harsher climates
but now as I see them standing
lost at the photocopier
face painted with unusual concern
not knowing what to do
because nothing’s coming out

I just think that they’re pathetic
and for good reason.