conversations sometimes
begin in the eyes
someone asking if it’s okay
to say something say anything
to a stranger maybe
who won’t turn away
this world can feel so lonesome
losers and winners collide
each one clearly identifies
believes what heads and shoulders say
about features they need to recognize
their own kind
See me in the mirror
I know who I am
See me at the bus stop waiting
a fellow passenger
one more hood-eyed ragged man
I met a father looking for his son
I met a woman who threw away
her chance she said
she knew she’d only have one
We are passers on these streets
fearful of who or what
we might meet
Poets roam the in between
hands in pockets heads in word stream
Listen for whispers
catch a fragment of your dreams
Neither above nor below
human frailties trail like streamers
in a perpetual human parade of floats
Seekers without answers
Wanderers without maps
Collectors of visions
Imagining meaning
Defying surrender as an option
Believers in Wonder
Connectors of Spirit
Temporary guides holding the hands
of fellow travellers
temporarily stalled on the side
of the freeway
Mumbling aloud our inadequate lines
scribbled on ragged pages
ritual practice over and again
Attempts to explain or to expel
our cumulative awkward nature
To shatter its power
To shift the boulder in the trail
To nudge the harbinger’s shadow
To strike the first note of the song
How to navigate the chasm—
the high wire between starlight
and the abyss~
