Thursday, October 22, 2015

Thought Life
The thought lives a life
of its own.  You wouldn’t know
from the skull, like everyone else.
Inside, there’s a needle, inside,
there’s a wire.  Inside.
The thought is taking out a mortgage,
trimming the front yard, dragging
planks to the side of the road. 
The thought is taking up residence.
Soon, there will be a neighborhood
welcoming party, cocktails, words
without words.  Meanwhile, the thinker
will be wandering somewhere, a new
thought:  Now, where did I put that?
Away to the Other
You’ve got to know kung-fu, my childhood
tells me.  In case you need it.  One day,
you will need a grapple hook.  You will drive
like a king.
The adventure you find in adventure stories
will be your own.  Must rescue, must
stay cool and placid in the face of evil,
always have a quick answer.
Move away from the man-child to
the other, who used to sit at the kitchen
table and design a valor-filled dream.
Story Tree
It begins at the base, a series
of background questions.
Then the story is spread               out
Leaf to branch to leaf, a face
of a protagonist, a villain,
a few strange quotations.
One way, the story branches to
a satisfying locus of foliage.
The other way, the way is broken,
splintered, falls breathless to the ground.
JD DeHart

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...