hopes and other scraps
blown about;
yet sometimes better with only form
to be those within oneself.
sometimes trapped still within
and never given
to dance amongest the living--
those the happy, the ones who know
not better
than do only as always expected
i wander little beyond my small home
for i have been out and about
having done the walkabouts
long and longer
i have seen some little corners
of differing places
and read about a few thousand more
still i wander little as age
begins that d**n creeping
once one reaches the closer
to natural ends
than natural beginnings
i seek not the crowds
for i have been one
singular being among
thousands
to know what thousands
look and sound like
together.
though together we all be
for we all one
single human
awash in this singular sea
of humanity...
i have reached that certain time
when thinning hair and the facial
creases
have begun their ironic laugh
and i look like an aging relative
in the shaving morning mirror
and it is beyond time
that a hair dye would give much help
except perhaps for the
good humours of others.
these recent days
though not as intense;
i understand Dr. King's words
"I have been to the mountain top
and I have seen
the promised land. Now, I may not
get there
with you..."
-no, there is no is no new or immediate
threats
just a few minor and quite regular
annoyances that one [though of little
fame]
of a tiny touch of celebrity [i have
been a bit around
famous folks to know a bit of such
things]
to know an amount of these matters
on a bigger scale...
to take one beyond the daily walkabouts
and the daily small reminders
that some not care of what be around
us
in the same way
as i might feel...
well, my dears, do not you
get the way
my lowly disquieted airs
are with me and
dangled a bit like a small wind chime
moving just enough not to chime
though not quite
of a perfect calm...