Sunday, May 11, 2014



The door slams shut
and once again I'm driven back
to empty pages.
No rain or street voices,
nobody calling to someone else,
my fingertips touching reality’s face,
my own face streaked with tears
in the mirror at dawn.

Miles away—in time and space,
you offer your adieu and move on.
I stand in the desert where the cacti
bloom. Something strange gathers
in the sand below me.  A mystery
governed by those sacred absences  
that make the spirit soar.

In the desert far beyond the city,
one hears the cadences for which one longs,  
the lyrics of those half-forgotten songs…
some of them poignant, some of them witty.
The words come rushing back like songbirds.

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