Life With Horace

poetry & essays


black hole hollow

ordinary dirt with ruts
this road winds down
to swaddling trees
restrained by boulder walls
stone guarding stones
upright story flags
pocked with black moss flecks
lichen crumbling scratchy
under finger tips
shallow letters with
bare bones accounts
I want to know
the face the runes
and numbers represent
his life was short
did he know love
or solitude
while free to live
above despite
hard scrabbled days
if not him whose
heart still glows
coals flinging out
the half life rays
that drew me here
to hollow’s end?

a cemetery and its road on the New York – Vermont border.



Heaven’s Way

Up the crumbling road
they ran from
quiet cemetery stones,
bedrolls flapping, dodging
early morning rain in
green encrusted May,
laughing as they came, the
dash of youth, and
all of life ahead.
From my window perch, I
wished me in their place
and longing, turned away,
spring too heavy
for a shredded heart leaking
messy love right down
my shirt, and crept
around the room certain
of impending death, a
Duse to the core. I mended,
they dried out.
We all moved on to older
lives, she left hers first
too soon, and young.
Decades on I return
to lushness, grays and greens,
wet kissed, fizzing temporary
love, and wonder if her spirit
is there too, revisiting
lilac scented nights with him
on Heaven’s Way.

Heaven’s Way is a cemetery road in North Bennington, Vermont.