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Saturday, February 23, 2013

old dog

she stares at me with eyes clouded by the past.

nose alert
haunches trembling
with anticipation for a time that once was
and might be again:
around the nearest corner,
under the fallen leaf,
or in the sound of my step.

is that pain
inhabiting the place
where once the bounce before running lived?
or is it merely the memory
of chases gone wild
toward oblivion
the ones that abandoned all training
and returned her to
that primitive
wolfish life
that beat inside
all along...

or, come to think of it,
can she now see more clearly?

is she unbounded
toward
that life
that self
that animal
that she was waiting to be

living

for the moment,

the instant when sunlight breaks in the piney morning,

the first bird leaves the nest,

the smoke scent rides the air,

and the rabbits are at last,
as they should be,
running far afield

waiting to be chased?

Sunday, February 17, 2013

it lived in the woods

to me
it simply seemed to be
a pile of bones.

oddly shaped
painted remains
of rotting wood
that were flaking faded cracked
and unpreserved.

it took up a sacred space
in the forrest
where i often passed.

pulseless.
haunting.
unkind.

bloated with the memories
i would never have.

i took a wide path.

not respectful
nor contemplative.

more often sighing,
ignoring its weight,
feigning a need to hurry a little,
sometimes,
i admit,
with my mind wandering to destruction.

the space between

me

and the bones

full

of half memories - half dreams
of me

small alone and left
staring up at its once frightening height,
this pirate ship of adventure,
with the tree canopy as its sails...

me on the ground,
and you up there
somewhere
traveling in its secret belly

to a life i would never have.


Evidence of a Life