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Thinking Thoughts - February 2008

City

February 25th 2008 23:26
People in a blink forgotten;
A colour, style or a face
Lingers a little longer; gone
Again, I feel lonelier here
So close to conversations; words
Do not reflect the loneliness
But intensify it; echo
As they leave the table beside me
And now I hear more distant talk;
A song plays on the radio,
Light, acoustic, afternoon tune;
For an early Sunday, past noon
And I am overwhelmed by grief;
Suppressed for the business ahead
Buses pull up; prepay only
Passengers ignore the sign, stuck
As does the bus driver, nodding.
Coffees, teas, chai lattes and juice
Sit on tables, customer’s chairs.
I am nervous; and excited
I am certainly me sitting
But I am lost; this big city;
I have to assert me, myself
In this stream of collective we.
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More, the world

February 24th 2008 21:22
The world has been carved; like a bronze statue;
We admire it, but more paint that arts;
How we do not understand Picasso
But yearn for his work; so we may sell it;
No even hang it for fear of its light,
What we may see in ourselves and the world;
But what we may earn; that is its value.
The world, carved, is now being painted, as art
So that it may be bought and sold for art,
As a piece of ourselves, as artisans
Healing the lonely rift we dare not bare
For a dollar; for power, to forget;
And, that the world is more than our ego;
The world is more than us, our words, our art.
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Life's space

February 22nd 2008 01:37
You cleared the leaves
For us, for me
In our courtyard;
A space for light
To fall again
Upon pavers
And grooves between
Forgotten sand
A soil washed
Nutrients gone
For pools of white
And shady grey
Now glistening
Under the sky
Slow moving clouds
Reflecting light
Back to the sun;
It may seem dead
Life’s lost end-game
Weathered and gone
For some fossils
Sometimes fragments
Of words long thought
But when we pause
For a moment
And raindrops fall
Soft on our neck
We look around
And see the space
Once cleared of leaves
Reflecting light
And we wonder
At all the time
That we have been
And what is left,
And how to fill
This, our courtyard.
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Life, a painting

February 18th 2008 23:23
Eyes, waiting, look, for an answer,
A moment, of seconds, silent;
Breathing slows down; time becomes still


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How do we travel

February 18th 2008 00:32
How do we travel through our lives
And not see the days that escape;
That lie dormant under the bed


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Waiting for the bulldozers

February 3rd 2008 21:50
I

It’s so quiet here, even in the middle of summer


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