I Can’t Write Anything For The Wind
How will I hymn a song
for an audience that will not come to gather?
How will I love into the words
when a man can’t acknowledge its adventure,
the heave and then the whisper of its orchestra,
where chords will drill the trees or lick the awnings?
How will passion report through the air and aisles
when that subtle tuck of collar is all that’s reconciled?
How will I vow anything from the words I choose
when the wind hangs a man from a common noose?
Why Going Into The Past Won’t Work
The years will grow dustier and dustier,
by now they’ve almost slipped from the book,
and your encyclopedia of woes
is packed thick with the unnecessary,
and the movie you’re watching is fiction,
its cameo has failed like an ousted candle,
but its flickering pictures
shall shine like a moon in your night.
Beauty Has A Scar
Gardens are orphans if you remember they bloom alone,
color is just a sigh in the wind,
always fetching the center of our gaze,
and holding on with the tooth of a wolf.
And they sign to your eyes with the charm of a doll,
so many words stifled in the mum of the mouth,
eavesdroppers to the low vows of fences,
a sun sitting on its perch bearing natural burns,
while the caretaker consumes herself with the matter of dirt.
Jason has been published in various poetry journals, including most recently “Allegro Magazine” and “Ink Sweat And Tears”.He loves the poetry of Billy Collins, Pablo Neruda, and Sharon Olds. He stumbled across his love of poetry by losing his mother at a very young age and developing a need to express himself.