behind door number one…

i’ve begun
to question
the value of these
heart beats
one
after
the other
wondering
if the next one
is going
to offer
some hidden purpose
to my life
or
whether
they are mere
rhythmic patterns
denoting
that
i
should continue on
seeking
my own purpose
and
be not reliant
upon
the heart
to tell me
what
to do
nor
wait for
the mind
to
reveal
what i must
create
on
my own

postponements…

life’s faded
to-do list
held in hands
marred
by time
once strong line
discolored
by
hope’s tears
over the years
promises
made
and sought
now
for naught
an
old man
his mirror
a last friend

the clown’s lesson to the politician…

removing his makeup
the clown’s
aging flesh
was
revealed
the jaundice
from
deceit
was no longer
beneath
the layers
of
society’s nativity
he spoke
to his colleague
the politician
in clear
but
whispered tones
as
the stench
of
rotting promises
filled the room
with each breath
exhaled
he
said
always
offer them
a good
show
one worth
the price
of
admission
and
i tell you this
they
will never notice
your sleight of hand
as
you remove
their
freedoms

as life’s light fades…

how many
poets
have sat
by
evening’s light
pondering
the end
of life
what words
did they
inscribe
to convey
the feelings
that washed
over them
was
it
fear
wonderment
or
just
a sense
of emptiness
emptiness
for having
spent
a lifetime
crafting words
that
so few
have
heard
amidst
the noise
of life

oneiroi…

it had been years
since he’d
shared a room
with a man
indeed
for 50 years
she had been
by his side
each night
how
clearly
he could still hear
her turning pages
as she read
late
into
the night
sometimes
dozing off
with the book
opened
and
propped upright
as if reading
with
closed eyelids
any attempt
at removing the book
garnered words
of denial
of sleeping
then
the shuffling of more pages
before the nightlight
was permitted
to sleep
however
his new roommate
preferred
old black and white movies
with
the sound set
to compensate
for the hearing aids
so neatly
stored in his desk
so as to save them
for
a special occasion
no doubt
his own funeral
so many changes
not only roommates
but
once great books
provided the escape
from life’s harshness
but now
it was
sleeping
more preciously
dreaming
for in dreams
you can be wherever
you wish
and
these constraints
of life
are
mere delusions
so
there’s no need
to
discern
night
from
day
except
when
she
comes
to
visit