It's real: the fury. Like the absence and breakdown of
chlorophyll in autumn leaves. The anger comes in spurts,
and spits out like growth.
Truth is ever only partially told, at best.
Here & There
Here a few poems,
there a few tears
what more do you need
to give shape to your life?
*
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see 's./j. goldner' for my poems contributed 2004 - 2008
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Burning thy bridges—dost thou make you happy, my daughter?
When all is said and done, will you not be standing in a heaping pile
of ash and soot? Of the wreckage of a life once so well-lived;
I love you, my daughter—but I cannot stand by to see this:
...
(slight edit)
The days since you
have been more than difficult.
...
I search for things to cloud my mind,
to maintain a dulling of the pain.
The suffering is drowning,
but the sense of self is ever-growing.
...
I will continue to live.
To love is an option.
When life has torn your gut out
and swallowed it whole,
...
A petite blonde gives her beau a lingering hug in the street;
she is leaving him and i can feel the bittersweetness of their parting.
An elder couple, hand-in-hand, wait to cross the avenue
...