this evening's post

I've posted three poems tonight as I have missed three Monday postings in a row. For the past few years I've managed no consistency in my writing. Or perhaps I write exactly as I used to but only my awareness has changed. What remains constant is my lack of satisfaction and desire to do better.

untitled poem

The rain falls
pitter pat, pitter pat
the flowers bend
to sleep against the arbor
pinks and reds; petals
piter pat, pitter, pat
they lean against the arbor.

Tomorrow they'll ascend.
What it is to bloom
to gently explode
to unfold

Unfurled, no longer green
or compact or warm or safe
Do they know of what they were?
Full of possibility
and small
like raindrops

pitter pat

pitter pat

pitter pat

I need this far more than you

I want to ask if it is good,
have I written one true thing
But where am I to take my words
when distinguishing drivel
is a solitary endeavor

The lies are always on the page
but they must be honest in revealing truth
and it must be new, but not for me, for you

and this last thing,
it must be mine
though we stand on shoulders
when we do so we climb to seclusion
and I must be at peace
with who I find there

background music

Listen to the crackle of the record revolving
We perfect the reproduction
But there is only
the musty smell of ash on your sweater
You were there in the autumn forest
and here is a reminder
of only
a single tree