Causality Casualty

This way
I know

Things that are made
are often unmade
or remade new

Today, as I read
of particles, and waves
(until the room spins)

I look to capture life
even here, in the case
of a basket gone gray

(or grey)
gris
(I like gris most)

It wasn't always
like this

Uncaught Melody

Among the disorganized clutter
of words and half-thoughts
He picks a path to the stage

The light is on
and edging to the microphone
clears his throat

"I have nothing to say,"
he says
"thank you."

The notes are all there
and the strings are tuned
this moment passes, and another

It's late, the room is empty
and there is time
to breathe again

Sporadic

Life comes in waves

The child gets an assist in 'bye-bye'
and manages that marvelous
spontaneous smile

followed by a wondering look

Onto the bus
and a wave from the window
the mother looks to the sky

and morning, and evening

Out on the field
playing at fighting
glance to the sidelines

a special one watches, and waves

Sweep of seasons
reasons and rhymes
and calendar flutter

and wave roots travel unseen

across the stage
now dim, now bright
until all return home

(I'll write when I can)