Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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.

sun turtle moonstones



countless shed
in rage and grief
for loss of life
and love’s escape
but know my friends
that tears
rejoin the earth
to fall again
as rain
and with these
moonstone drops
comes life renewed
a moment’s chance
to heal and wash
the stench of hate
into the sea
and pray
the only swords
we need are
gentle arcs
of green
sun turtle lines
of remnant tears
safe havens
for our memories

a poem for a day that always brings the echoes of a loving grief. I send these words to join those voices raised to shout aloud their sadness in the face of tragedy.

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I kick the football yet again,
choosing to forget
the inevitable,
that it will be snatched
at the last moment
and send me tumbling
end over end through blankness,
wailing, furious, shedding illusions
like jagged sparkler beams,
crash landing, spent,
in a heap of dim regret.
but, then I do get up,
fortitude my ally,
defiant, standing straight,
determined to survive,
and run toward the garden of my soul,
where love and self forgiveness thrive,
to heal, and not look back