Common Places



The goodness and the grief, the reaper and the thief

What one calls into question, the other calls belief,

and I drift along in a transparent galaxy


Follow me and ease the pain, still art in brushstrokes willed by beautiful sorrows


The homeward and the bound, the lost and the found,

Some are seeking wisdom, beggars come ‘round,

and there’s only distance between our towns


Battered wings lift us to shared dreams,

The night calls the lonely home to empty beds and hungry souls,

Nothing is borrowed and nothing is old and my little blue heart still beats


The rest of the story remains untold…



Credit: photo credit: <a href=””>Cia de Foto</a> via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;

8 responses »

  1. you say things here so gracefully and with such understated surety that i feel like i’ve lived with these poems for years. tony

  2. as to the story remains untold, and i’m sure there are various ways to go here. my take here is that this is all that could come out. to much going that needed sorted out. just a hunch.

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