Through the Window

Mesh wire laced windows

with pulley closures

like Popeye the Sailor Man

rigged them up

sun streaming on the gym floor

basketball goals sans nets

inner city school in a town

that doesn't know it's a city

disconnected masses

someone asks

"Howya doin' Miss?"

if they slip by

they'll wander the dungeons

of this old school

linger in its haunted auditorium

spirits leftover from the 1920s

are we here the sum total

of its morter and brick?

living off the glorified past

of its now defunct alumni

no one here drives those

oak-lined streets now

glimpse through the spruce hedge

that deflects the wind

see a real life hustle outside

every year closes out the former

as decades carve themselves

upon stone memorabilia

and those that remain

climb the fracture-laden cracked steps

meeting the struggle

transcending time

The Blooms of October

A curt, little wind

cuts abruptly

stabs full through

heavy handed despair

sitting here

waiting for the sun

to throw off harsh

shadow bleakness

sift through

that broken hourglass

laden with memories

to breathe

and breathe freely

cast down

a silver thread of hope

perhaps a golden loop

to catch remnants of

sparkling shreds

broken bonds

now come together

then are lost at once

while gazing at

the moonflower vine

hanging heavy

on the porch lattice

Correspondence

Old letters

sometimes fall out

as if sifted from

the center of time itself

words stare back

from slanted sentences

uttered by strangers

from afar

sitting solo silently

listening to hear

faint sounds

from a phantom voice

those words evoke

an evolution of memories

that transgressed

before tidal waves

of anguish

washed over

broken promises

then empty hours

crashed down

and rendered

those words

helpless

The House on Tenth Street

I passed by this old house

one evening

alive with candlelight

where it stands

on 10th Street

it has been there

since the early 1900s

against ratcheting time

life expanded

and dissolved

like the neighborhood bakery

barber shop, trinket stores

horses and carriages

replaced by autos

Bonnie and Clyde

roamed the backside

of these streets

World War II ushered in

rationing, praying

tears amid destruction

A tornado hit close

sixties racial turmoil

schools closed

This house was here

when Andy Sims

disappeared without a trace

in 1961

It has been lucky

to remain

in a place where they

tear down history

trying to keep appearance

hip and modern

not even considering

how we need

the contributions of yesterday

and how we can admire

the continuance

of the elegant

yet simple style

the testament to the past

the grace of another time

the comfort that

all those candles

must give to those

returning home