Don Fredette

The numbers buckled from the stress,
the weight of thought and equation.

From dry silent lips, the chalk dust speaks
...

Climbing the ladder waterfall of your breathing
I scale upward through torrents of emotion.

There is no dam - no time to prepare
...

Toward the twisted rift we set out like lost dogs
unaware of the future of mankind, only of its scent -
its comings and goings in forlorn delusion
and the trails left in the winds and the soft dry dirt.
...

click, clack
scraping and scuffing
click, clack
plastic heels on
...

L, e, t, t, e, r, s sway-ing
da
ng
li
...

May awakens
and one of her slippery rivers
bring stones into bloom.
The moss suns its soggy back
...

In a tiny wooden boat she pushed off
alone from the dockings ties and set herself adrift
out into the cool waters and the darkness.
And the stars overhead cast their gaze
...

During lunch break I choose to continue a journey of writing I began so long ago

I choose to take the last decade of my life into account and recall what's worth
...