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If I were music

I’d be all over the score

Incoherent – no cadence

No rythm nor harmony –

A noise – mismatched sounds

Like the Orchestra tuning the instruments

Just before the concert –

The intention of calm melody

Being declared…

If I were a painting

Cubist I would be

With precise geometric forms

In an altered manner –

Landing ground for the chaotic stance

That reigns over the internal order

The colors of dried flowers

Proclaiming the inevitable – end

So we can complete the cycle – so round and circular

Thus reaching the beginning

If I were a tapestry

I would have seedy thread

A sign of fatigue that comes with time

Feet that walk the long walk of life

And found rest in me.

My stitches would be spun

By old women hands –

Quiet – arthritic – contorted bones

conquered by the mighty needles

With every stitch a story

Forming an image

Searching the memory

What an irony

The elder can only sew

The remembrance of the wound

I am not painting, music, nor art

I’m not whole – nor part

But I spread myself – in disasters

I don’t try to hide what ignites me


Open the faucet

Letting all words and ideas in a torrential spill

Flooding the soul

That was rusty and stiff – empty without inspiration

So hard to control the flow

The stream is powerful

Runs freely – no caution

It’s better to follow the natural

The little sprinkling of the water

Refreshes me

But the rocks

Make the walk harder

Bruising my steps

The fall is consequence –

The climax of the navigation

I’m so out of control – no rudder, nor compass

I continue adrift – submitted to the torrential waters

I shall get to the Valley

That is expanding in my mind


I drank the afternoon

Thinking it would help me…

It just took the time from under my years

But it didn’t subtract – that’s the problem with time

It keeps adding…

So the afternoon was gone and now I have to prepare for the night

The night is so mysterious

So secretive – shadows to follow

Eventually I’ll catch the shadow – or it will catch up with me

And we’ll waltz against the walls

And celebrate the morning to come

And laugh at the time we spent

Trying to drink the afternoons

Until one of us surrender to the light

And fades – or dies…


Kiss his forehead with gentle lips
Let him know you care
Assuring on his last night of sleep
Of his Love you are aware

Grant him that last Word
And the taste of wine
It’s been a long time He dared
Let him stand tall
And dance, and sing, and laugh

Before He closes his eyes and forgets
You were there