in still places
st. john boys home
it was on friday
i said i would be there
help, raid the storeroom
supplies.
“i was caught creeping
in shadows.”
the cobwebs
of my mind– burn
the thud of discipline –
strikes.
i flew elsewhere
down indistinct fissures
away from consuming
claws;
“in to the longed-for
abyss–of– nonexistence.”
i was neither here
nor there
although my friends knew
where i was;
i did not see, feel, hear
rain beating against windows –
or the howling
wind.
infinite in
my childhood-mind
a phrase kept hammered me.
“hey things
are, as they are; it’s time.”
time to make your final run –
no more
walls.
after, there were
no more
Walls.
____________________
Shadows alive in sun
In solitude
my nights are a failure
but then, so what.
I am the bloodless battlefield of life -
and I weep like a child
for the past.
the thing I fight for
is my bit of inmost center
of peace.
Although desire maybe dead -
I am still a man
weather-beaten- windswept
out-waiting pain.
sunlight continues to filter on
as drizzle creeps down clothes- in puddles
beneath my shoes
I must confess
I have become fatigued over
the years.
It is enough you are within- as often
I am beaten.
