Untended pathways
leave little room for escape.
A trapped tiger hunts.
writing
Sometimes,without warning, I can see
My typewriter self
Always seeking still offers life of peace.
The sun long awake
is patient to light my path.
Green leaves bare its trace.
Fresh morning air comes from the playful night before.
Energetic air
infuses wafts of pure joy.
Squirrels play full of nuts.
juxtapositional journeyers jockeying jubilantly
One brain, one body
Traveling through many hearts.
Spring restores the chase.
January 11, 2011 – Clear!
Here is a try at coming back from a near literary death.
The paddles are charging and aimed at my heart.
God I hope it works.
Rough, dry hands barely
release cramped fists to touch life.
Sleeping dogs still dream.
Peace…
