I remember your hands
as they held mine
I remember feeling them
sudsy and warm under
the tap as we
washed in the kitchen
I remember noticing them
wind their way through
my hair turning my
face towards your kiss
I remember your hands
slipping free from mine
that last and final
time that we parted
Category: Poetry
COMorn
The foothills are laid
out in front of
me like lounging calico
cats speckled by cloudy
sunlight that dots highlights
and shadows different parts
of the same coat
Boulder to the north
Golden way out west
Pueblo down south ring
Denver like the halos
of the Rockies angels
Bean’s
And away he is
home or somewhere else
as precious as home
where he was raised
and where memories remain
He is of land
of earth and tree
of animal and sun
All gods to him
to which he prays
and takes and uses
thanks and is grateful
his world’s not mine
mine is of words
his is of work
Carry
I have a friend
that carries his dog
everywhere and when they
get where they’re going
he sets him down
Curious I inquired quietly
can’t walk can he
Oh no he can
I just don’t want
him to run away
How many of us
carry around others for
simply the same reason
Hope
Hope is the only
thing that I can’t
live without any hope
about any thing carries
me higher and farther
than even their promises
for promises to most
are meant to be
whereas hope is here
now and not later
when they are already
gone
