Not sure if there is such a thing.  I am trying though for what it is worth.  I think deep down (or not really at depth) we all know what we should do but we actually do moment to moment varies.  If everyone moved in a certain way the world would surely be better… but is that the way everyone thinks? or stops to think? or should think ?  Sometimes I look around and think everyone here is dead, more or less true.. so what does it matter?  I guess I am searching for the answers also.  Smarter and wiser people than I have pondered these questions and will… for ages.  Maybe words are my sanctuary or at least a temporary refuge.

“unfamiliar” 4/1/18

I saw a creek I do not know

I have driven this stretch

of the parkway

a thousand fold

a body of water

a basin of life

flows into a forge

becomes a river

and the sea

begins

off mile-marker 131b

dmk Note: Mile markers or more specifically exits on the garden state parkway (GSP) are a very new jersey thing. For us there is a common occurrence “hey, where are you from? what exit?”.  I do not claim to know if other states are like this.  The GSP runs like a spine and in a way is the spine of the state from tip to toe or point to cape (as it were).. it is a part of being from this state as much as being New York’s little brother.

“easterly” 4/1/18

my neighbor’s easter chatter

in their backyard

a letter to another neighbor

washed up on my lawn

from these late spring storms

I return the lost parcel to the plastic mailbox

filled with mail already

how odd (for a sunday)

I’ve known this place

my whole life

familiar

a woman

walking her dog

whom I do not know

easter is letting out

as my neighbor’s family disperses

to travel to their homes

“goodbye grandma” a little voice

followed by the heightened whine

of the minivan pulling up the block

the sun is almost set now

peeking behind fifteen lynnwood

I guess I had not noticed

the buds on the trees

ready to burst and transform this tract

once and again

from pale green slumber

to lush with leaves

soon we’ll have summer

there is always hope

I tell myself.

“poison” 4/3/18

a toxic house is poisonous to all inhabitants

walls pulsing seething

membrane

throbbing beating

even in the calm still of night

labored – breathing

constant – pounding

never – sleeping

doors closed, air stifles

cripples motion

throats crack

strangles the air

choking choking

4/3/18

are you a wolf?

no

but yet you hunt

are you prey?

no

but yet you are stalked

As is my custom (and my burning desire to spread good tunes) here is some music to enjoy… “Steve Morse – Modoc” … known well in musical circles (one of my favorite guitar players) but outside those circles probably  not so much.