This slow time
that low time
when an almost
seems more likely
as hand grabs
a leaving arm
and eyes plea
then trail behind
all that’s left
are the footprints
of some fragrance
and the once
that made was
Endings
When cast overboard
and into sea
a drowning man
will clutch onto
anything that floats
unlike the condemned
man whose head
when it’s placed
in the noose
will look skyward
surely knowing where
he is going
Notes
These notes
some penned
others played
dance about
in unison
or sometimes
in despair
I reach
like once
I did
long ago
as a
child with
stubby fingers
trying to
pluck the
clouds from
the sky
Bay
The echoes stopped
and only in
dreams do come
from the abyss
dark haunting howls
like wounded animals
waiting for salvation
but in day
they grow quiet
it’s the moon
that always make
the hounds bay
Spring
Having once been
but became something
else almost unknown
I had pooled
into a valley
and there I
fed into others
losing the very
thing that once
I remember was
clear and crisp
and oh so
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 