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Freshly Brewed Poems Open Mic June 4 & 18 Sit, Days away
Sit (at Beaufort) on the Deck
Sit in the sun
The cold
Sun
Steam from the cup
Steam from the breath
Of the dog
Steam
Bouncing in smokestacks
Across the sound
Down drafts
It’s too cold
But a book of poetry
Falls thru the cracks of the wicker chair
Back to the wind retrieved
And open random
And you read
But the cold cuts
And the sunset description doesn’t warm
But codifies your blood
In oh-my-god the images
Of sunset slices of blood
On the earth
Standing looking at the horizon
And relate
And chase the dog inside
To write
Days Away from Shores
Days away from shore
The loss of land as it disappears,
That first tab of the trip
When you are still looking landward,
Back to the future you imagine.
It takes days, weeks, years
To twist in the wind
And face around foreward,
A minute maybe or a lifetime to feel
That it is no longer the start
But closer to the end.
Like racing toy boats across the tub
The first inch the racers are together
Traversing the miles (inches) together,
Then
They seperate,
In speed and skill
Obstacles and motives
Til the champion smashes
The ceramic wall.
Cheers at the last inches
The rest arrive
Fast on the heels
Or slow deliberate
Or circling lost
Seeking the goal
As Mommy cheers or
Repremands to catch up.
Its takes days,
Weeks, years
To make it across that sea.
Invasive Species
The invasive being
Lives its life not knowing
The evil it creates.
A gardener's quick snatch
Touts its demise.
Pocketed to a destiny in the
Garbage heap,
It sneakily
Grows again,
On the rubbish pile.
