Tuesday, November 20, 2012

. . . . . Walter Never Spoke


Walter never spoke
Never moved from his bed
A stretched out farmer
Dying in an 1820’s farmhouse

Was it a stroke? 
Was he tired down to the ground?
Did he believe his dying room held already
the words that would fit?

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

91, In Hospice

91, In Hospice

Awake, she ate with unexpected haste

Hands flying over the tray spilling nothing

Coffee is stone cold, she said to the room

Ignoring the gloved hand, caressing her hair

91, In Hospice,

That's What I'm Talking About, Collected Essays and Reviews (Nativa, LLC, 2008) p. 44 - Available at Amazon.com and elsewhere