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.

  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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