123014
December 30, 2014 § Leave a comment
from behind
the baobab
I see him
there now
at the bank, river
lapping at his fangs
eyes hungering
to fix
on intruders
I see no reason
to stop
avoiding
the tiger
whose only obsession
is to
banish me from
my jungle
into that abstemious urn of androidal hollowness
where the defunct
drag about
seeing only
aftermath of deluge
not puddles for paper boats
the embers of inferno
not elusive illumination
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
122814
December 28, 2014 § Leave a comment
engaging a
reflection
seen through
sheets of frosted
glass
you
find yourself as unexpected
species grown
dense in
layers of experiences
fingers cramped from
unstringing structure
attempting to
unlearn
learned impairments
searching
for the last quiet place
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
wake, live, repeat
December 26, 2014 § Leave a comment
let today be the day
the sun decides to shift in the sky
if nothing else
but to throw new shadows
to hide my damage
not that I care so much
how cogs progress
through their
operation, mind you
but because
things have been
a bit off
anyway
today might just
as well be the one
that goes haywire
in a cosmic sense
the way it is, you see
is that
birdsongs sound
like tubular bells to me
the wind – a theremin
I can’t recall
important events
names evade me
more than a little effort
needed to throw
that first leg off the bed
there is comfort in the sound
of familiar colors
I listen for them
as I reach for
the lamp
trying to remember
what day it is
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
122414
December 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
122414
some dark somewhere
treasures may lay waiting
all that is for us
is to keep
looking over the gunwale,
the sea listening to
our sighs,
one island
after another
sliding by
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
voluminous
December 23, 2014 § 1 Comment
a pressed leaf somewhere
in one of these hundred books
once an afternoon
window or windows
or a hole where window was
looking for an out
looking out the hole
there booking past the window
one for someone once
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
evolving
December 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
hasn’t enough been
said about
loosing our smallest finger
to it
yet
not so much
concerning
our inner eye
or
regaining
the ability
for aural recognition
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
released
December 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
having exited before the curtain
to emerge at
an entrance to an
endless plane
stranged by experience
and
left
to plot coordinates
of speculation,
to measure,
in droplets,
heaviness of decision
where echo of ovation,
(a winged whispers twin)
somewhere over a shoulder
signals
a birds release
no desire left for
tracking flight
as dawn hints at
a cresting
she will rise to find her
place in formation
on a heading to
some hidden
nesting ground
beyond ivory shawled mountains
that encircle
the valley
of self
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
121614
December 17, 2014 § Leave a comment
it is not
for a train
that I am waiting
but
of a thing
lunar
and I wait
for the weight
of its pull
the change of it
and of it
it is
this change
constant as
desperateers fight
to
contain ripples of
satellites that persevere
without
such
effort
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead
a blog interview
December 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
121214
December 12, 2014 § Leave a comment
when the mellowing
of seasons
placed on my step
conversations we had
I thought to
weave a fence of
willow
a
living lattice
along the gardens edge
some place to lean
a shovel
or hang a shirt
as I tend to your favorite
things
behind that green partition
you should have been
here to see
I set rows
drive poles into earth
spread straw
around mounds
a box made for
containing calm
a temple to nurture
that little thing
of you
left in me
(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead