These Days

Foreword

A poem sits me
down, pours a cup
of soul or two.
Now drunk, divided
between two unknowns:
The world outside
and inside.

===

Helper

Going to the market
used to be a breeze.

Of course, there were
the occasional arguments,

how a domestic helper
would come handy,

how your age-battered legs
ached.

Now a helper helps me
on my way

to forget how our arguments were
won or lost, how your legs

ached.

===
 

Stop Running

We can't

stop running.

Our hearts

thud, thud

thud

Our eyes

roll, roll

roll.

Until the first

time you

come before

me.

==

Untitled

Slow clouds push

me softly off the ground

to ride with the wind.

Horse's mane is my imagination

fluttering in the light

of day unblinking, staring

at my dreams.

==

P.S.: These are born of productive days, or days I have put aside for writing these craps, or poems, or whatever you may choose to call them.