Age of Aquarius

Sometimes at night I’ll awaken to rainfall on the roof tiles and I think of poets all over the world, their fingers tapping out words on the keys.
--James Finnegan


wherein the cleansing
rain drops will

slowly fill to the brim
the rusted tin

pan under the eaves only
if the sullen skies do not

open to let the sun
shine in.

Bringing It All Back Home on the Messinian Range

With apologies to one of the Last Great Riders of the Purple Sage, Robert Zimmerman, also still hard at work Bringing It All Back Home!

As I Live and Breathe

I may be plumb tuckered,
Tired and worn out,

But

To my dying day, I swear
I’ll never utter another

Lifeless cliché.

Measure of Grief

Sigh as long as you

Don’t keep it in.

Prodigal

The Lost Son?

Some lost souls say he was never lost
To begin with, though it’s hard
For the poor mind wanting

To grasp how
He was the profligate
Who found himself

By wasting it all away.

Hagoromo, David Miller

Recently received from the author: A small selection of Miller's previously uncollected poetry, which draws on work from the 1970s to the present. The ink-on-paper cover--"Untitled (Blue & Black)"--is also by David. Always a pleasure to receive something from such a gifted poet.

Regarding Wards of the State

When impermanence states
The spoken

Word’s ir-
Revocable, the

Written ir-
Reversible,

Then irresistible

Silence becomes
Our sole constant re-

Minder.