Posted in Passages

Winter & Spring

Posted on by tq1695

I always went there to find calm.
Correlation and
comparison – loss, their’s so much greater.
Quiet,
it always
even the necessary lawnmower straitened and subdued,
delicately respectful of the headstones.

Bookends, brackets, margins –
what lies between?
It was the craziest six months of my life
danger, drugs, vice, stupidity; all and more.
Retrospection shakes its head
age wonders how youth emerged alive.

Calm: trees, filtered sunshine, flowers, offerings. Quiet.
Comparison: grief and loss – far greater.
Correlation : her entire life was six months. The same six months.

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.