Ink in the Blood Posts

Dewdrops

there is

a hand

we’re given

not talking cards

or the hands to hold ‘em

this hand

is about time

the ticking hand

of time

that quietly ticks on watches

louder on clocks

it ticks past the 1

past the 2

past the 3

past the 4

past the 5

past the 6

past the 7

past the 8

past the 9

past the 10

past the 11

past the 12

into the afternoon

into the night

into the morning

one single solitary second

ticks to the next

single solitary second

and even if all the clocks

all around the world stopped ticking

on wrists and walls

time would continue turning

the internal clock keeps ticking

so silent

so hushed

we forget

in the rushing

to get there

that we are turning

continually turning

round and round

changing form

becoming more

becoming less

balancing the scale

in the stillness

of a second

one solitary second

we can find

what we seek

in any moment

of any day

of any week

of any month

of any year

it’s there

in the smallness

of a single second

it’s there

like a drop

of dew

on a blade of grass

that shone like a diamond

in the sea

sparkling

against the velvet

of the night

TL

“A Wink and a Smile”

at the top

of the tree

the star

is lit

and does

not

blink

at all

but does

I’ve caught it

winking

as if to say

hello

and then it

stops

for days

and weeks

on end

it sits there

staring out

and watches me

move about

deep in thought

it jolts me back

like yesterday

when it blinked

and blinked and blinked

on and off

on and off

on and off

to get my attention

then stopped

and stared

back at me

TL

Tulle

the ruffle of the waves

the longest train

of dress

could I walk

forever

in it

TL

Connected

a flock of yellow

leaves

just flew across

my window

wonder where they’ll land

maybe one will wind up

in small hands

and they’ll know just what to do

adults tend to step on leaves

or sweep them away

like trash

children are different

they pick them up

and make them new again

and twirl them in the air

and take them home

to keep forever

traced on paper

and shaded

in color

the veins of a leaf

uncovered

like the roots of a tree

that slowly grew

up

TL

Thoughts

and everything

that was

was no more

this is hard

for the thinker

to accept

things need to make sense

death does not

make sense

to appear

one day

only to disappear

another

to love

and feel everything

then nothing

to love someone

you can’t bear to leave

or ever live without

but you have no choice

in it

what agony is this

to leave

and be left

mere mortals

live knowing

their ending

is tied to their beginning

there is a returning

a pause

and we fill up our time

with everything

and anything

to avoid

this knowing

what thinkers know

but could not

and cannot

comprehend

as those before

those here

and those after

could not

cannot

and will not

comprehend

we connect

through time

in our thoughts

in being

as we are

sleeping then

is a gift

given

how else then

could we bear

it

for in slumber

deep beyond

we can forget

for a while

what in waking

we cannot

TL

Spring

and

then

after all

you wind up

in a music box

closed

or in some mill

of wind

wandering

or in a dibber of dirt

where seeds go

not to die

but to live

TL

Imprint

walking

down the path

the crunch of snow

the feeling of forever

frozen

like a deer in the distance

 watching

already the icicles are dripping

and it is green again

the first flowers open up

a butterfly appears

and reappears

baby birds high in the tree

waiting

the seed low in the ground

growing wild hair

in a garden square

there are no lines

a bridge over water

lily pads and swans

buzzing bees and chirping crickets

ants and gnats, flies and fleas

ticks

the oceans are warming

sand is turning

it’s busy on the street

under the shade of a tree

time slows

the leaves are yellow

like the moon

a restless rustle in the wind

side-step the puddle

up the way

there’s a little bird standing in the sunlight

its small head raised

still as a statue

like a prayer

then it feels my stare

in a glance

gone

TL

Lost

there’s a

gray kitten

in a concrete cave

starving

there’s a chicken joint

across the street

a grocery store to the right

a bank to the left

but money’s no use

this creature is a casualty

of circumstance

fear of the unknown

keeps it frozen

it drinks the rain

and watches wheels go by

were it grown

it could hunt

somehow survive

there’ll be Christmas music

playing soon

on every street corner in town

high above

the concrete cave

where wheels go by

TL

For Grace

if you

continually destroy

the innocence

of a child

you know not

what you do

the trauma turns

the child

into an adult

immediately

an adult incapable

of trust

like a stray

out on the street

that runs away

when you try to call it

and give it some food

and water

a safe place

it just keeps running

into blackness

far from the love

it never knew

were it not for

grace

TL

True

rich or poor

old or young

throughout history

in times of war

in times of peace

in every country

the edge of the sea

the cliff

from the prairies

to the palace

tiny towns

big cities

remote villages

in the middle of nowhere

on a trail

looking up

at the stars

down at the dirt

all of us search

and some of us

find it

and some of us

just don’t

some settle

or give up

or have no idea

it can even exist

like that

it’s different for each

of us

so many songs bleed

so many books tell

so many movies feel

and a rich man would give it all up

a poor man die trying

a woman walks the floor

pacing down the aisle

with her roses

trembling

when she reaches the end

and stands there looking back

at winter on the ground

at fall whirling in the wind

at spring opening up

at summer burning hot

will she smile

or will she weep

maybe both

did she find it

after all

did he

TL