eye floaters…

 

as
the years
went by
he
swore
that
he could see
the strings
that
tied
him
to this earth
pass
by
his eyes
fibers
of
his
fading memories
translucent
ties
to yesterday
that
no one else
could
see
sometimes
full
fragments
of
time
would float
into
the ether
as
he stood
helpless
as
all
aging observers
of
death’s arrival
those
were the times
when
well-meaning practitioners
of
the healing arts
would
say
he was
despondent
tho
he heard them
he
chose not
to
explain
the nearness
of
death
to those
with
the light
of
hope
in their eyes

 

waifs ruin bull market…

 

who will buy your wears
the children with empty stares
reaching adulthood
but they have no homes nor coins
you took those from their parents

 

touch…

 

one would have
rightly
assumed
that
by now
science
could provide
a more
refined definition
than
some
proprioceptive
mumble jumble
for
that current
that
flows
through our bodies
when
we’re
in
each other’s arms
some
scientific term
to
capture
when two souls
merge
into
a single energy
celestial fusion
perhaps
but
even that
fails
for one
has no reference
for
true rapture
just
a series
of
words
written
by
poets

 

powerless to stop it…

 

there’s always
an antiseptic smell
before
death
as if
we truly
believe
we might
cleanse death
from
our being
it’s
a fragrance
of
age
we know it
all
too well
from
nursing homes
and
hospital halls
but
sense it
even as
we walk
along a city street
it makes us
most sad
when
a passing child
has whiffs
of
death
we wonder
why
and
where is
god
but are
soon distracted
by
armani
arden,
or
fresh-baked goods
until
when naked
in
the shower
we
find
that
fragrance

 

the mirror doesn’t do you justice…

 

child
i ain’t nobody
that
you
haven’t been
what
you find
endearing
is
a mere
reflection
of who you are
or
the destination
you’re
about
to reach
if
you would
but
take
those first steps
for flight

you’d find
others
speaking
of
you
as
you
speak
of me