In the stillness
of broken unease
and silence
of a thousand
thoughts raging
one camera’s
focused vigil
on a fireplace
in the woods
with no one
there except on
the other side
crackling embers
fall and rise
in the quiet
nothing speaks
Tag: Poetry
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NaPoWriMo 11
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NaPoWriMo 10
And when the end arrived it
gave up the ghost in the machine
not for change only to start
another round earn endless lives
but this sponge at the end
of a branch barely reaching
the thirsty throat which calls
us from behind the stone
into the solemn wine-dark air
why forget since to forget is
to sin only the blood makes
the thorns free in their grasp
of love that commits to the end
knowing that in our beginning
there is no end only love in breath
you breathe in and out again
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NaPoWriMo 9
(Weird Haiku Sonnet)
I long for the day
and it cannot be too soon
for this strange season
to revolt and say
the virus has left the room
no rhyme or reason
not warmth nor weather
or empty parkways with cars
that cover their face
consuming terror
with their windows left ajar
gone without a trace
mirrors we hold in our hands
unsanitary demands
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NaPoWriMo 8
I keep night daydreaming
that the worst never comes
to pass and spring arrives
in evanescent technicolor
and we return to the new
normal only it’s not normal
and we keep wearing day
pajamas which are totally
different from night pajamas
and no one goes back to work
or logs on to the internet not
even for a little bedtime apocalypse
we just go around hugging everyone
like we used to in those shows
and movies they used to film
just a few weeks ago but now
seem horribly out of date
if not downright irresponsible
because it turns out in the end
what we owe to each other
is everything we took for granted
but cannot take for granted anymore
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NaPoWriMo 7
This afternoon
I woke from my nap
and listened to
one of the few
trusted historians
in this timeline
discuss the history
of voter disfranchisement
(hint it goes way back)
while pictures appeared
in the same timeline
of people standing
humans with breath
and kindness to spare
keeping their distance
in lines too long to fathom
with masks as protection
the historian ended
her talk with hope
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NaPoWriMo 6
Today on our walk
the silence of the streets
was so striking
it resembled
the cloudless sky
overhead
we noticed the buds
springing from the trees
nothing could stop them
a blanket abandoned
on a fallen tree branch
with almost apparent care
at the other side
of the forest
a bride was there
at least in dress walking
with a cameraman
planning photographs
for some undetermined date
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NaPoWriMo 5
Speaking with you
through this tunnel
is not unlike passing
through an art gallery
a marriage of absence
as if every picture
lost its frame or
reference being
the blank space
creeping into vision
either a new guest
or just a name
a ghost memory
me waiting by the window
for you to appear
only to watch you drive away
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NaPoWriMo 4
It cannot be enough
this question of grace
asked before or after
in the middle of things
the face unknown
as required of being
difficult now to tell
the difference between
daylight and moonlight
as the hours rise and
the seconds lengthen
we wait for beginnings
to end once again
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NaPoWriMo 3
Every night I’m having
the kinds of dreams you have
when there’s not enough
stimulation in the day
conversations with old friends
new and old plays to rehearse
houses to move in and out of
all contribute to this nightly
lethargic dance of synapses
as if to say you haven’t lived
enough so here is my offering
and whatever you remember
in the morning as you start to move
will linger through the day
when you see far more
pixels than human faces
on the screens that fatigues us all
and this ghost echo reverberating
in your eyes nose ears and throat
will be there still waiting for you
when you come back to life in time
resting your head to fall asleep with
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NaPoWriMo 2
There is a way in which
when the wind is blowing
so much you cannot breathe
you wonder what it is
or who that makes you
breathe at all as if
you could remember
your first breath after
the trauma of birth
we change consciousness
before we even know
we are conscious
and out in the bare frame
of existence we choke
ourselves awake not only
for the first time but
the time after that
and the time after that
Really all we can do once
the train is set in motion
is watch it go by
no use climbing aboard
since you are already there
and anyway the landscape
around you keeps changing
at least it did at first
now there is just
this glass resting at last
in the window frame
as if it was almost breathing
Joshua Keiter 