yesterday's image

washday

the new washer and dryer
sit across the room from my workbench
as the clean garments fall past the globe-like window
images come like pictures on an old tv screen

Anne Marie and me
in the laundromat up near 25th street
she folding and me rolling
puffs of smoke and dreams float in and around our heads

could it have been that all those days were sunny days
wonderful memories triggered by the sight suds and the smell of bleach
filled with comfort taking me back to old joys flashes of faces once seen daily
visions so bright I must have made them up

JRS
8/2/2009


time to cut the grass

all morning delaying
the cutting of the grass
not that the doing of it is hard
they have taken most of the work out of it

the obstruction for me is
just getting started
it is much easier to navigate the net
for pictures of girls with little or no clothing

something that I find more pleasant than
the work made for me by the mice
yes they made a mess in my toolbox
and last winter they broke into the shed

still trying to get all the little shells
out of my lawnmower
I keep looking away from the task
now that I have started this verse
I have one more thing to put off

JRS
8/3/2009


yesterday‘s image


there was a time when we knew his identity
one who was in possession of power
beloved to many a picture of life’s joys

now he seems to have no scene of himself
eyes wide open but the fire is gone
the hard strait line once cut in stone
now smudged like charcoal

followed him in and out of smoky rooms
we wanted to be him
not watch his crumbling

these images that weave him into our memory
could not be myth
nor dream for we know his identity

so why do we not see him in our glass

JRS
8/4/2009