landscape

my

impressions

tailored to the past

updating

from one

to the next

a lost

dude where no one

walks

If there was once a man

inside this, only was

he there briefly. In other

circumstances, someone else

might have been thinking for

him, but in this case, he

believed he was responsible

for his own thoughts. They

were of his own devising

this man

was put here only for this

single purpose, of making these

thoughts. He was not to

tread away

Only when the setup files were

completed, would he be set up

and ready to run.

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drawer

Ay, my poor timepiece, you’ve stopped telling the hour

Not from the five and dime. To repair you’d have me scour

I would have consulted you, due to know when

You’ve stopped at five past eight. Tonight midnight won’t tower

You’ve left me no recourse. I will have something new

At least, I say to you, take me through the time of ten!

It’s frustrating if I stray at night and have become lost

I look at my belt; there’s nothing there. For you, too much cost

Seldom do I need to know, I’m at my best a guess

Even past the point of dark, when there’s no more a crow

I wander, hoping for the very best, no danger, at hand, unless

This would be the one late night when I could feel a blow

I hope very much that you haven’t left to this fate

I hope you don’t think it serves me right for treading out too late

I didn’t mean to offend so much, or trample on your hand

All around the landscapes stretch, an oh-so-familiar land

If only you had lasted a little longer, on this troubled date

If I knew what time it was, the night’s escapes so grand

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fingers

I grip a hammer, spilling old nails and the boards lay aside for when it has been swung. I help haul strange debris to the corners, searching for what’s underneath and not in ready shape any longer. Once in a while, I power my camera and snap photos of the action, the light on the view indicating auto. It isn’t hard to keep up. At times all I am doing is undoing, fixing a mess, or sweeping a surface or elevating shapes of wood with blocks that hold together. My fingers are gloved, for the season is winter, and they do not much feel the cold, although outside the low temperature is striking. I am lucky the work isn’t too hard. It is understood in my hands, and while my mind sometimes wanders, ultimately what I do is good for the soul.

side_of_church

hero

Harvey’s mind was automatic

The book in his hands quaint

As historian he did read

Old past landscapes’ restraint

His wife came to the shadow room

To disturb him, amiss

His wife asked, “Can you take this call?”

Harvey swift gave a hiss

A moment on the telephone

“Not now!” Harvey insists

A moment to hear Harvey sneer

This request resists

“There are ways,” he spoke, when alone

“We proceed with great care.

“Never do we assist their tasks

“To call here a poor dare”

“I alone am responsible

“I am reading the annals

“For the historian is I

“There are the right channels”

“Guidelines instruct and then inform

“No one shall have their say

“Guidelines instruct and then inform

“There is no other way”

“I shall read what’s old and to learn

“Mustn’t be put to test

“I shall read mistakes in the lore

“Champions, too, I rest”

compass rose

My Best Event

Time for a poetry potluck

woman with violin isolated on white“Dance Me To The End Of Love”

… by …

LEONARD COHEN

… is writing to make you pine for romance.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

animals

church_animals

rodent’s burrow there beneath, walnuts.
nothing
i would eat, nothing fit for one such as i
but i wonder
where it has gone
blizzard’s escape, but too
safety the critter returned, its store
undisturbed.
until today, when we open its retreat to the air
above, that both we and it
breathe.  it will have to live elsewhere, i think, cold or

otherwise

trust

Labelled the godfather of punk, though sunk

Often appalling, RCA Records stalling

Under the influence, Metal Machine Music blunder

Rising star of ’72, expected to go far

Ecstasy was a strong song of his he penned in later years

Eloquent rare but dare listen to his song

Death finally took him, the way Andy Warhol’s shook him

flowers_trust