Tag Archives: Sun

“I’ll Not Wait”

“I’ll Not Wait”

I’ll not wait till dawn to praise the sun;
Shadows follow closely where I sleep; this night must end:
I’m guaranteed as much. What, then? Tomorrow? What? Again
A word’s delay a world away is all, so, patience me. The midnight trains still run
Their course–stampeding to the east to crawl back westward–and catch
The rising or the setting cosmos all along the local milk run. Coaches
Matter not, jettisoned or newly recreated in the Milky Way, we approach
Our destinations, dusks or dawns in proper times; passengers dispatched,
Who only seem to arrive at destinations previously booked
And so we do not blithely cease to live because we wait
Upon a final station or dream of tracks not even built. Medusa guards the gate
That turns all nightly plans to stone, and we her momentary shades that looked
To make the journey know the Night Train only claims a means to ends
Through mirrors while season tickets mark what joys the daybreak sends.

“I’m Told”

After The Rain

“I’m Told”

I’m told that wells within some few
Of us contain the purest beverage, powers,
Potent afterthoughts of light in consequential showers;
Spirit butterflies, random valleys’ blessings’ dews.
There’s no subtlety in this, but some
Confusion insofar as water has no colour,
No perfume but the inverse of its catalyst, the sure
And lasting remedy that comes
To all who ask, and cannot be ignored.
And when the letters of the common drink
Address the eyes, the spelling links
The abstract ciphers to the concrete word for evermore:
I speak of shame and effects that stem from reason;
Not all possess this gift, but save for the sun
there are no changing seasons.