Ophelia

Ophelia



Ophelia skates across a frozen pond
absorbed by the rock-hard haziness
of her reflection

Ordained to be damned for spite
for what little is relinquished
not sacrificed

Persistence is the thing
blades scraping in solitude
through the early morning air

Riding the cracks between
that which is absorbed and that
which is distinct

I know too well to watch her -
but for the cold, I could
drown in understanding

I tell myself this and
relinquish all claims
on bliss

We stand upon a face
no longer our own
unable to touch it

Even as it suffers our dismay
we suffer only ourselves
and share so little.

Cracks in the Sidewalk

Cracks in the Sidewalk




Cracks in the sidewalk
cutting toward the street
in perfect slashes across
the neat rectangular order
of someone’s imbedded intentions

Patience waits for me:
a bed of flowers across the street,
the road on which a yellow double-line’s
fresh perfection lies molested by the trail
of an impatient driver’s tread

And now the rain...
splattered shades of gray on concrete
blotched until swallowed by the whole
a flag tossing ambivalently within the damp breeze
the first hints of Fall out there on the other side
of glass -- where life is real

Tomorrow is the day it will not rain
unless I am comfortably within it
tomorrow words will find shape
and become unnecessary
and concrete will crumble to lend shelter
to the seeds of weeds and flowers.

A Touch on the Shoulder



The low-slung hustle
which isn’t really a hustle
the flower of the moment
braced against impending winter’s doom

Surreptitious bemusement
a breeze that passes by
touching you on the shoulder –
things you should remember

Two worlds slip past each other
at a distance of inches –
how sweet it would be
to swallow a blossom’s breath

The rain, the rain, the rain
so beautiful to a loving mind
the rain, the rain, the rain
even this is beautiful.