I think in noise

I think in noise.
great guttural bursts
of hisses and claps,
starts and stops,
horns blaring,
children crying.
music invades
and takes over,
making me spout
lyrics as though
quoting Shelley.
then, somewhere,
in the midst
one clear thought
happens
and quickly
fades

and then I asked for directions

we sat in traffic,
on a hot day with no
air conditioning.
as we sat she spoke
and told me of
her dreams.
with each sentence
she felt further
away so I asked
where she saw
me in all of this
and she said
she didn't.
so I turned around
and headed
back toward
my life.

slow is the new fast

I wish for slow.
lazy days.
even a lazy hour
to sit by the river
and try to catch
the moment when
the limestone gives
up its struggle
against the rushing
water and tumbles
in,
subtly changing
the flow.

orange crush

nature collapses
in on herself,
leaving a brown hole
from which
no red
or yellow
or orange
can escape
until spring
explodes
again.

shadow puppet theater

clouds obscure thought,
memories which were
etched in stone,
thought permanent,
have eroded over time
(time our great
friend and nemesis)
are now mere
shadow puppet
theater.

centerpiece

the lines on her face
seem deeper today,
like she's drawing
attention to how long
it has been since
your last visit.
her hands sit
on the table, not moving,
and you know the
arthritis is bad today.
the notebook
you remember always
being open is closed,
sitting in the middle
of the table.
"all of the beautiful
thoughts I have in
my head," she says,
"my hands won't let
me turn them into
lines of poetry
anymore."

renew

it's simple, really,
just walk outside
and open your eyes
and ignore, for a
moment, all that we
have done to change
the world. instead
let the world
change you.