Midwinter

jo'b

                    Before the fire

                    where we once sat

                    I open the vents 

                    and hear the flame

                    throbbing in the flue.

 

Domestic Tranquility

Never lost.                                       jo'b

I love to get things in the garage

where the UPS driver leaves them—

books, vintage Carhartts, poems—

sacred stuff I keep to myself,

except for a few old friends,

in this uncertain season.

I also love a good storm

when everything stops,

snowbound and out of touch,

the road drifted shut,

snowshoe weather,

a welcome peace, except

now for the satellite-cluttered sky,

now for what we all carry,

now for the watchers.

These few uncultivated acres—

I always figured if I kept them safe,

if I kept them truthful,

if I kept them simply mine,

I could go wherever I wanted

and never be lost, living a tranquil life

in its final chapters, embracing naivete´,

oblivious to the algo.

I was wrong.

Heed the call.

Mist in the Valley

jo'b

     Grandfather

     You came to protect me

     Stepping out of the past

     And into my dream

     Everything's possible

     When mist fills my valley

     I'll need you again

Sedatus

Please click to enlarge            (jo'b)

Deep breath,

Wounded soul.

Nothing lasts.

Silent Flight

jo'b

Do not ask               

If I still hope               

             

In the woods               

At dusk               

The owls alight               

Who am I to grieve               

Who has not ceased               

To wonder               

 

Portal

jo'b

                                                Three parts light

                                                and one part night

                                                the broken pane

                                                of dreams

                                                The past

                                                breathing in that dark

                                                like an animal

                                                chained to its stall

January Thaw

jo'b

Pausing by the pond                              

in this jagged world                              

to thaw my fears                              

and watch the sky                              

slide out from under ice,                              

looking up                              

by looking down.                              

Sunset in Winter

jo'b

                    A lower light

                    gathers at the waist

                    of earth and sky

                    Brutal in its stillness

                    when the wind dies

                    A beauty so intense

                    we feel our losses

                    more and more

Heartsick

jo'b

This way                        

old friend                        

if you're still willing                        

we'll call it a triumph                       

of memory                       

Writing by Candlelight in an Icestorm

jo'b

          

Night masked an ill wind     

That kicked in the cabin door     

And murdered the light     

Sky

jo'b

I never tire

of looking at the sky

for surely that's where she went

she who is lighter than air

which is why the Irish

leave the window open

to make it easier

for all

All Perfecto and No Bike

SchottNYC.com photo

               He sold his last motorcycle

               after a spill,

               a concession to age

               and to circumstance,

               but he kept the jacket.

               He thought he could

               defeat time, and desire,

               and the need to be loved

               if he just geared down,

               but the weather clears,

               and the sun warms his back,

               and he feels it again,

               the wild urge of speed,

               of freedom, of living,

               and, oh, to go down swinging.