Winter Harbor

Winter harbor.


Slate grey

With a short, harrying wind.


The chop breaks in quick slaps

Against the stern stones of the Battery wall.


The last curled, brown leaves

Skitter across the cobbles,

Chased by the winter wind

Like butterflies before puppies.


The air bites at

Sentinel skin.


The edgy air has chased away the summer crowds

With the leaves.


The people left are solitary,

Isolated each from each.


Winter out-of-doors is a solitary time.

Community happens within walls in the cold months.

The solitary winter wanderer,

Each an island wrapped against the edgy air,

Seeks the solitude.



Face the slate water.

Beyond the harbor mouth the iron tinted tide reaches on and on

Until it meets the lowering and cloudy grey sky.

Take a worry from your head,

Tie on a sail

And set it on the steely water.


Let it go


Onto the winter harbor.



Who will charge over the cliff,

The cliff in plain view,

Legs driving,

Arms pumping,

Full tilt,

Launching into the empty air,

With only rocks below?


A fool will.


So the world tells me.


A fool will leap after looking into the void.


Only a fool.


A wise man knows the path,

Finds the sure footing,

Follows the rules

Walks (or runs) on even ground,

And navigates by reason and sense.


A wise man does these things.


So the world tells me.


No one can fly.


I would love to fly

But no one flies.

We all fall.


So the world tells me.


I’m no caped superhero.

I’m no angel.

Those aren’t real.


So the world tells me.


Very well.


I’ll be a fool.


Maybe wings of faith need empty air

And a running start.

Night Falls

Night    falls.

The world   slows.


My heart does not slow.

It pounds relentlessly,

As if to pound a way out of the four walls

Of the small room,

Well lit room,

Comfortable room,

That is my self-created bastion against the darkness.


This world is too small.

Boundaried by old carpet

And soft sofas

And a lifetime’s accretion of knickknacks and trinkets.

They press on me like rocks at a witch trial.

A self-built fortress

Become a self-imposed prison

With self-forged chains.


Night falls.

Darkness settles

And I scurry back to my safe cell.

Safe and bright.

Night falls.

Trees whisper in the wind.

Spindly branches reach for me.

Uncanny sounds surround me.

The world is too big.

I lose myself.


Night falls

Like a soft blanket

Settling across my shoulders.

Soft leaves brush my skin

And crickets and frogs sing to me.

Clouds chase the moon.

I breathe in



And break the chains

And the walls.

I breathe out



And fill the empty sky with me.

I fill the me-shaped hole is this world.


Rest comes


Night falls.







Of shadows,


Stretching forward and backward.


Each breath,

Each heartbeat,

Is a separate shadow me,

Me in a moment discreet,

Each moment bordered from each moment,

Given the semblance of continuity

By the passage of consciousness,

Shadow to shadow.


Each shadow me exists,

Perfectly eternal.


Moments never pass.

My perception passes and makes me think that moments pass.

Time is an illusion of continuity.

Continuity is a perception of pattern.

Pattern exists.

So time is no longer an illusion.


I exist as eternal shadows of myself