Inside you?
Tag Archives: poetry
The man on the wall in my room under a tree reading a book
The wood is the sacred wood.
The tree is the cross.
He’s been there
and may be there
for quite some time.
On a day like this
You shower
shave
pack your lunch
and go to work
Trying
Just like that cloud
The gentlest of souls has died
He will, I trust, be less confused
by his companions.
Their gentleness will match his own.
They made a boulevard through my midday woods
Whacked the weeds,
chopped the trees.
I don’t like it.
Why do we ask why?
Because something in being
cries out to make sense
Sometimes a spirit
Likes to play dead
Hang on to that mental health, folks!
It’s nice to have
A doom hanging
That is no doom.
Just an orange
ready to drop
Utrecht Journal 