Dear Editor
My soul is timeless and older than the cobblestones
I walk on, my is older than the houses that lean and
get old together in narrow streets where shadows
huddle in doorways, away from the unforgiven sun.
My soul is so old that it can remember a time when
the weakest was banished and can only come out at
night. No, there is nothing modern about my soul,
but since it is timeless it knows what is modern today
will be old fashioned tomorrow
June 9th, 2008 at 9:05 pm
Dear Poet
The essence of the word is what it is
the essence of all that will be forever
as long as we read it
the word tickles us
with wisdom
modernism is already old fashioned
in its dusty brass weary containment
modern is like plastic
easily disposed but the
ground you leave behind
lines in the sand
take little space
we bear only alertness
in between the words
no gifted cement unlocks
hidden virtue to calm the wind
or stolen kisses unknown
unrattled by time