Imagination

Storyteller

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Hours whisper sighs
as the birds swim by
a marigold cuts cartwheels
some angel is digging
a trench. . .

And then, you drop words
like a farmer planting —
dig the earth, turn,
trembling hand
fleck the seed

a story springs
to vibrant life, turn
of phrase or memory
or living life a life
living still the images
coalesce and pictures
move to the memories
flowing like water toward


the sea and I See
the past open
like a crevice drops
away from the land above
into dark otherworld caverns
of muted light and hours
pass this way — open opening
opened heart that hears as I

Listen…

Puppet

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Manipulation-Puppet-on-Strings

 

The Stage beckons but I hold my place with the Shadows

Of dark-corner-ebony-haze Standing on the Brink of Oblivion

Amid the billowing dance of those old velvet curtains of Coincidence.

Spotlight On

And the Shadows jump to a wall and leave me Standing

Center-Stage

In a Drama I didn’t rehearse for – trying to remember learning lines

Or the Name of the Play

as I contemplate Performance and Gravity

And kick off my Strings again Today.

Image on Wednesday

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main red

Imagine the Past as a body
perhaps male
dressed sharp in black tux
arms open – stance solid
ready for the dance

Imagine the Present as a body
perhaps female
dressed elegant in red silk
arms open – face smiling
ready for the dance

Imagine the Poem as music
a slow rhythm
a four count – with husky undertones
of the ancient Mississippi blues
playing as they dance

Imagine the Past   Present   Poem
as the dance of life
sashaying by
drifting in time
toward the future

formal dance3