submerged

May 28, 2015 § Leave a comment

it is

soft there

under the water

of some kind 

                  influence
as choice claim self

           or climb surf to

recognize this as

subtle resurgence

        

        possibly it is

time afforded to 

recalibrate     

                      (or as

                      

free radical submariner 

under

atmospheres)
a simple continuance of

shouldering 

pressure 
a holding of breath
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

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after the cut

May 22, 2015 § 1 Comment

the bandage 

ended up just south

of the wound 
blood lost

measured

with the scale of persistence 
push one foot forward

drag the other 

holding out that

with each drop a

marigold will grow

in the path forged
don’t ponder too long

about it all

it

is just 

energy transferred 
with

every pulse

pumping another

onto the way
for those 

who harvest

behind
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

a fleetingĀ 

May 20, 2015 § Leave a comment

seems

I had just placed bulbs

waiting on blooms

what else,

really,

is there to do? when

seasons of warmth 

seem to

pass

in the time 

     it takes

to stow boots 

          & fetch

          sandals 
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

reflection of a stage in process

May 19, 2015 § Leave a comment

dark mirror
will not 

disavow authorship

          of

self knowledge 
as conundrum this

point to commence 

ascendency 
which dawn will grant

becoming 

emergent?
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

enveloped

May 15, 2015 § Leave a comment

            in his     chimera
it seemed it has taken a lifetime 
to know the fog
& just this morning
while (again) trying to
understand it     from
within it
 
he watched squirrels 
retreating from cornfields
to outposts
into wood lots
 where
field mice
twitched whiskers
anticipating a
partaking of the haul
rerouting profits to the revolution
             he thought
he gave wide berth to
remnants of an outbuilding
jumbled there
           on woods edge
slowly ruined into earth
         ashen for aspens
         dust to dustier
framed as
flashback of
ice/snow
the iconic width &   window 

on a death
the story as related to the children 
the storm had dropped 8ft.
overnight     then 
from that window the 
ice-scape    he was presented 
as
visual for preternatural malfunction
inevitable 
     collapse
roof 
        world
              stability 
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

reach

May 9, 2015 § 1 Comment

I step into a row
and see the first shoots to break
the soil
tendrils 
grasping for strands
of twine strung
between supports
like a line of 
emerald cloaked monks 
beckoning skyward  
for that elusive reveal
I fight the urge to lower
the string closer
to their curled arms
much as I did 
the urge
to push 
the low branch
of the crabapple
for a granddaughter 
we all must learn 
to climb on our own
to stretch
upward
just as
I had taken 
my hand off the branch
it was that
I pulled away
from the string
reach
little ones
reach
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

the procedureĀ 

May 8, 2015 § 1 Comment

a failed surgeon 
head bowed in a
nod to defeat
instruments tossed
into tray
monitors powered down
old tires groan
as I push the patient 
out of sunlight
and back to its place
alongside the
other lost souls 
of weekend tinkering
chainsaw
mini-fridge
drill press
from the gallery 
a sparrow tweets
a note of scorn
and flies off with the news
I wipe the evidence 
from my hands 
and head for the garden
peas cower
tomatoes quake
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

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