Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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for the taking

perhaps the stars
hold memories
diamond pinholes
punched in winter black
life stretched
across infinity
expanding overhead
even as my focus
might be squeezing in
and only looking back
a tempting counterweight
to shrinking time
well nuts to that
I’ll take the milky way
with thanks
refusing blinkered days
or thoughts
and will not shut
all possibility away
this heart and soul
are slated to remain
open for business
indefinitely


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witches moon

there is a moon
that reaches back in time
to sit quite full alongside
backlit clouds
that boost the light
cast onto curved tile roof
and night gray city street
our last call crocodile
glides on to bed and quiet dark
obedient walkers all
despite their adolescent hearts
raving under brown tweed shells
my mind afire I long for
for home’s imagined warmth
yet balance on the cusp
of life to come
un ruled un uniformed
and dream of flying free
certain of that magic
reaching out to touch
this lunar wave
a witches moon to rile
my adolescent soul
its glow a path
I’ve wandered
ever since

_______________________________
the title of this poem has been a companion for many years. I am very grateful that it waited for me and for the poem to catch up.


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next

I wear the cloak of having loved,
not tightly but clutched light,
threads of life thrown on
to walk the path of next,
companion on the loops and hills ahead,
the grains of my allotted scores
falling through the hourglass neck of now
their descent soft breath to kiss my cheek
then drop away to join the humus
steeping just behind.
what colors must it hold, this cloak,
to lie so soft against my skin,
what memories all skeined,
though some were nettles
leaving welts and tears,
others joy that grabbed me by the nape
and shook my soul awake,
then weaving strands of love
presented as a gift, no toll required
or so I thought, glowing rich and warm,
elusive dancing beams
that stayed a while to walk among
wild golden flower fields
communing with my heart, until we faced
the sunset edge of certainty.
in dimming afterglow I saw
the dark cast Janus face of fear
instead of love, mouth open wide
to swallow all my peace.
abandoning this portent of a frozen life
I turned away before full night
without a backward look,
Eurydice sans Orpheus
shedding petal tears
but never love
walking fast toward the light

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I have always seen time, carrying its map in my mind’s eye, a form of synesthesia. Personally I think it explains the sometimes weird but welcome linkages of time to physical space that pop up in my poems.