Sky and water

Water and sky indecisive,
light flitting around corners,
thunder mumbling curses,
a low energy kind of day

I recall a day exactly
like this, so long ago,
when we walked between the drops
to the 10th Street Pool Hall

to lay our fortunes down
on the Steepleton tables,
greener than any pasture,
leather pockets yawning.

Entire lives were spent
and measured in racks of nine;
I still hear the clack
between the thunder claps.

In the end, we walked out the door
pockets empty, hearts full,
into the long shadows
of the waiting sullen universe.

A winter song

This gets no easier just because
invisibility has descended
squarely on my shoulders.

I find it increasingly difficult
to distinguish truth from desire,
light from dark.

I would have thought it would have been
otherwise, but no.
I can’t recall a time when I wished for

change without suffering — is such
a thing even possible?
On the other hand,

is no-change possible?
If we stand stock still the wind
still carves furrows in our hearts.

Sooner or later,
one way or another,
we pay.