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
All
Things never do
themselves do they
there’s always some
string or fuse
that starts pulling
or teasing taunting
I wonder what
and wonder if
and then all
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 