I’ve finally learned
that one thing
calls to another
a frame begs
for a picture
a bowl beckons
for its fruit
and a bed
pleads for salvation
eyes and lips
though play two
hands at once
the first words
and the second
almost always desire
Sand
I no longer
walk the beaches
of weak character
those shifting sands
of broken promises
and mind changes
that shift with
whatever front comes
along no longer
seems to be
the only antidote
that balances out
indecisions lethargic lethality
on to grass
I will go
Barber
Hammer and chisel
scissor and shear
spade and rake
does it matter
when making beauty
marble hair soil
when one can
using one’s hands
take imagination and
make it imagine
and then make
it just so
an artisan uses
their hands like
dancing with life
Hungry
Some offer so
little yet expect
so very much
they often demand
and under deliver
I was taught
by my mother
that if you’re
hungry you’ll eat
it seems like
those who eat
never really share
or bring anything
to the table
Polish
Putting your trauma
into a rock
tumbler isn’t going
to turn them
into shiny gemstones
put those rocks
into the ground
or hide your
keys under them
or prop up
a wobbly table
but don’t hope
that by churning
they’re gonna change
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 