1-8-97 can’t get there from here


Again, so much time passes
Between collection of words
And the images pile up
The fears and dreams of a people;
Nature’s unpublished itinerary;

A rich couple beside the road
Looking for what their wealth can’t secure
In the shadow of a well detailed car
Just over a wet, loose hill
From painful smiles and one way stares…
No matter,
To look elsewhere
Where danger lurks, awards and punishes

Do the selfish come from the place
Where the lonely sigh?
Justify the need for a glove
On a hand forgotten in the cold

Snow falls

The gods block the road and keep us safe
The heart and mind tell the groin to shut the fuck up
Silence only stalls tears better spent elsewhere
A simple life has a pain all its own
And a slave to gratification will find no comfort
And his feet will be unable to run along the path
To find easy answers

And people will speak of happiness
As if it were a relative term, a goal
A place to live, to earn towards, to escape to
And the images pile up
A scattered handful of Polaroids
Lost beneath layers of rarely needed things
In a heavy black bag on the floor.