Dark Light

my view through
tree branch folio
shape shades the moon
to an arrowhead arcing

some tempting target
in light year removed
a bullseye that I’m
blind to

my view through
tree branch folio
will wither with winter
that arrow will atrophy
that arc just a remark
of summer

in my view, a poem is The Schrödinger’s Cat of a literary critter, and bitter I be at just how hard it is to capture a poem in its natural habitat. And that initial look see… often determines, if the poem, to the reader, renders dead or alive.

Nominally Nostalgic

I’ll have a Rolling Rock. To better resurrect my sneak joint days. Corner bars with wide avenues of personhood and personality. And, with but two T.V.’s… tops. The juke box hops to a local hum. A 13 run weekly roll-over baseball parlay. Squares for the Bears. And tiny oven pizza, with a pool table just a slice longer than a gimme putt.

But Ma and Pa Saloon owners have been washed away by a wave of micro-brews.

And faux local pubs crest the current, as community after community loses its church key.


Relax
7 comments
  1. Enjoyed the reads, Doug. Loved this part, “to better resurrect my sneak joint days. Corner bars with wide avenues of personhood and personality….”

    If I could search your files, I’d look for writings on “pin ball.” Did ya?

    Hope you don’t mind that I bogarted the URL for the calming rain video. 🙂

    1. Hell no, I don’t mind Bill, pilfered it myself. And I tilted to pin ball way pre-teen and miss my battles with Bally to this very day. Thanks so much.

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