Wintry Pomes and the Wind that Follows by Jake Walker (i can read with my eyes shut .TXT) 📖

to Whickett Bluff Park
 
Once there, the stars twirled and churned
Bouncing off one another, they laughingly burned
The trees spoke the code of conduct—twigs gently waved
I wanted to stay, so I obeyed
I laid down to the crunch of grass
Off in the distance, the sound of a lark
Brown of the oaks displayed like brass
In this dreamy place, Whickett Bluff Park
 
My back on the grass became wet
I dreamed of little lavender jets
Flying below a cosmic flame
A tranquil place where existed no blame
Was this place lost to mortal eyes
This park of Whickett Bluff
I learned the soul never truly dies
It merely leaves when it’s had enough
 
A friend quietly approached,
I warned, “Don’t encroach!”
“I’m here the same reason you are,” he said,
“To discover the things that are lost in my head.”
“Ok,” I nodded, confirming his stay
Here in Whickett Bluff Park.
He was just like me in every way,
Looking to leave his mark
 
My friend lay down not far from me
I wondered if he saw what I could see
I closed my eyes, trying not to think
I was suddenly lost in an eternal blink
My eyes were opened when it was near twilight
My friend sat up; said, “My name’s Clark.”
I told him my name with stale words trite
We became drones of Whickett Bluff Park
 
Midnight was drawing near
I was beginning to think there was something to fear
Clark was digging a hole
Resembling a pesky, furry, restless mole
I looked upon him, curiously
“What’s that hole for, Clark?”
“Wait ‘til 12 and you shall see.”
At midnight in Whickett Bluff Park
 
When the hole was completed; Clark’s work done
We looked at the sky—triumphant ones
“Midnight is coming close,”
He said, his pale face looked gross
The last remaining minutes
Became last remaining seconds
When the waiting period finished
The sky opened up to us, and beckoned
 
The sky blew up at midnight
A sight that conjured much delight
I was lost in a daze
A borderline dangerous, trance-like craze
“Do not fear,
We are His friends,” cried Clark
Out of the woods arose a deer
In the open, in Whickett Bluff Park
 
The deer in all its majesty
(the sky splashing colors resplendently)
Trotted towards Clark’s pre-emptive hole
The animal feasted from it like a little salad bowl
“What is it?” I asked
“A magic mud that heals the spirit.”
From the mud came a raccoon masked,
I wanted to touch it, wanted to get near it
 
The raccoon climbed a tree
And pointed towards eternity
The raccoon, I saw, was leading the way
The way to where the world had no days
“Do we venture, do we follow?”
Clark nodded, a confirmation
The doubts in my throat, I had to swallow
I marveled at the situation
 
We climbed the tree
Clark moving in front of me
When we reached the top, brilliant light on our face
We were witness to a fantasy, far away place
“The hole was to release the animals within,
They know the way even in the dark.”
Now our enlightenment can truly begin
In this heavenly Whickett Bluff Park
 
“What of the mud that heals the soul?”
“We’ve no time for that, we’ve got to go!”
I looked upon the neon abyss
I knew that it promised a spiritual bliss
I desired this place more than anything ever
But still I said, “I’m going back.”
To be rid of desire was my true endeavor
So with that I shouldered my red worn backpack
 
“Goodbye,” I waved to Clark
‘Twas fun here in Whickett Bluff Park
“Will you ever return; will I see you again?”
Regardless, we are now most compassionate friends
I passed the entrance and passed the trees
Dawn I saw was slowly taking over night
The winter air was cool, with a slight, fresh breeze
And I knew my choice to return was right

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St. Isley

The gravy old man        in delivery
Dined
         Full of the wine
On spinach dip chips

Salted     encrusted
The meat
was
                rare
To touch such a dish
The man did not       dare
He lived a polished life
Living so            lively
He went home
      walking
Through the streets
of
St. Isley

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Publication Date: 02-05-2010

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