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The thrust of this poem is…

the letters have     c
                                 o
                                  l
                                  l
                                 a
                                 p
                                 s
                                 e
                                 d
black holes threaten to swallow whole
any abstract word they attempted to create

even concrete words find themselves
endangered, drowning in the pools of
quizzes and lectures, having grown
weary from academic nonsense

the narrow views of those who think they
know more than the Omniscient:
chronic disease filling lungs with a
sickness worse than pneumonia

pretty piano music plays softly while
silver-tongued lies relentlessly reveal
their designs of attack on the Spirit

refuge is offered:
no latchstring is needed
to unlock some imagined bolt—

protection found
in the Word which never will collapse.

written for Monday Melting #19

“Why I Walk With a Cane”


Flipped Helix left little doubt:
his days as an easyrider were over.
Gestures to passing cars seemed futile.
Carrying the scratched-up, dented-in helmet,
he footed it to the nearest rest area—
stepping over lilies and on maple leaves along the way.

Thankful for feet to stand on.

Previously, he had no worries about the dangers
inherent in such freedom-riding activities.
Yes, she had expressed concern about how
she may one day be a grief-stricken bride,
but hobbies are for enjoying and exploring,
even if, sooner or later, the crash is inevitable.

written for Sunday Whirl and Monday Melting; linked to Open Link Night at dverse poets