A Journey
Laden with kisses
and other burdens
of the fuddled flesh.
Weighted with bone
and blood and brain
matter, grave matters
of the psyche and physical
realm. Being human
and all its transport,
this existent train
we travel upon
to the farthest reaches,
our madwise journey
through proud seasons
and breathless beauty.
Going and going
and we never arrive.
We never get there.
Abandoned
Our waiter has gone wandering
the wildwoods and wastelands.
Our waiter was last seen heading west,
along unchartered waterways,
and may very possibly be following the wind,
his absence revealing our limitations,
our frailties, our flaws.
Our waiter has abandoned us to fortune.
The seasons change. The constellations alter.
And still no hope, no sign of his return.
No amount of wailing or gnashing of teeth,
no appeal, will keep us from our predicament.
We are as if little children after a plane crash,
stunned and bloodied, whimpering softly.
We sit. We await our inevitable end.
Invitation To A Party
Momentary and experiential,
as in all good comedies,
time tying its sailor knots,
bloated and gouty, consorting
with a damaged umwelt…
You’re in Sleepytown,
and there’s nothing for it
but to drive round and round
in ever-decreasing circles,
driving at night
with the headlights off,
swerving to avoid yourself,
sounding the horn at the ineffable,
reading the address on your invitation
by the light of a waxing moon.
Arriving late. Departing early.
Bionote
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a Pushcart nominee with over a thousand poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are The So-Called Sonnets (Silenced Press), An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy (Cawing Crow Press) and Like As If (Pskis Porch), all available via Amazon. bpmcrae@live.com
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