tugging down hair strands,
right where the foot of the flame breaks even—
outreaching from a coarsen rug; in little time
cheeks crater out. engulfing the blessed cry of departure.
have you watched the fire spread on a pyre? the last time the muscles
twitch.
human skin of pastel gorges beneath the river, yellow.
the danube devotes praises to the blue skies of distant dawn.
......
Though the day I had at it's fill
Only you the one come by my way
And rather the old friends did conceal
Behind curtain, on the day.
Later Sun rise, after all, on you
Half hidden from the shine I call
As the withered leaves by dew
Restore itself, next to fall.
......
Bonnie and I enjoy ballroom dancing
But we are not ballroom dancers
There is a difference
One manifests enjoyment -
A joyful response to the urge
To get up and move with the music
as when a waltz or rhumba begins to play
When that happens, we must move
lowering and rising, 1-2-3
......
A scowl...
With hands on face
We are marked,
Stalked… and prey
Ticking away in escape
It cannot be saved
Moments pass behind us
Now becomes then
......
That old man in the chair
with the still, spotted hands
hunched over on his porch
and gazing into nowhere.
His youth has ran,
on the ground he lands.
No one seems to care,
and onto them, his dead eyes stare.
This is the land
of us the aged:
you the younger
will not understand-
the mist of life
hovers heavily over
we live alienated
in a lacuna-
for such we were born:
......
tugging down hair strands,
right where the foot of the flame breaks even—
outreaching from a coarsen rug; in little time
cheeks crater out. engulfing the blessed cry of departure.
have you watched the fire spread on a pyre? the last time the muscles
twitch.
human skin of pastel gorges beneath the river, yellow.
the danube devotes praises to the blue skies of distant dawn.
......
Die Tage werden stiller,
nicht leer,
nur langsamer.
Die Hände tragen die Spüren
von Arbeit,von Zärtlichkeit,
von Jahren,die niemand zählt.
Der Spiegel zeigt Gesichter,
nicht nur das eigene,
......
The skin grows thin like paper,
a landscape of years
folded into wrinkles
where silence lives.
Eyes look further
than the present reaches,
see shadows of voices,
walk paths
the feet have already forgotten.
......
Bonnie and I enjoy ballroom dancing
But we are not ballroom dancers
There is a difference
One manifests enjoyment -
A joyful response to the urge
To get up and move with the music
as when a waltz or rhumba begins to play
When that happens, we must move
lowering and rising, 1-2-3
......