In My Back Yard
The view out the back door
A (Low) Tech Perspective

Ghost Words

Could use a kind word
About now, a velvet touch,
To grout the cracks, to stem
The flow, arrest the oral
Entropy of seemly weak
Community. Right about now.
The spirit won't cooperate,
Or can't. Instead, the bleed
Increases, and hungry death
Encamps.


Wraith-like words emerge--
Slimy, demonic under-words,
Unfriendly, to wake old enemies,
Which warlike bend against
The sun on my behalf.
A whole, wide virgin field
Is cleared, and battle lines
Are drawn.
                  But before it starts,
It's done. The end is the beginning.


Drained and grinning. One helpful
Ghost is left, and groaning
With me, in me, softly sends
Me, through me, words
Which love-like, split the
Seams that isolate my hopes,
My fears, my dreams.

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