Bluebird

Upwards
Climbing freely
Above the barren field
I saw a bluebird in its nest
Sleeping

December's Denouement

Autumn exhales, long and slow
Spent - by the harvest
And the felling of leaves;
Tugging at the last brown stragglers.

The barren maples and birch
Palaver on winter preparations
Warily eyeing the constant conifers
Who hold tight their secrets.

Time is ever even but our division
Shifts toward the night. Drifts
From the light to algid evenings
Descending toward the solstice. 

And then, though imperceptible
Days stretch for the celebrations
Late in the season, late in the year.
December's denouement.

---

(c) 2012, Norman Dziedzic Jr.

On the Platform

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

On the platform, The CTA platform

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And it was the north/south line
And it was the Chicago Avenue Station

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And as she talked, All listened,

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And as she sang, A few drunks laughed,

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

(and everyone pretended she wasn't even there)

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And with the rolling of the trains

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

All sounds turn

into a dull rumble

anyway.

Care

          And then,
            when left to chance
       I think things move
           (in a way)
               not unlike
             water...

    [Each] Going,
                  but not knowing
             Where it must to
               fill the
                     gaps.
              And never quite
              understanding form.

            Or at least
                  leading us to
              believe it doesn't
                        Care.
                            .
                            .

Reflection

?         R 
 ?        E 
  ?       F 
   ?      L 
    ?     E 
     ?    C 
      ?   T 
       ?  I 
        ? O 
         ?N 
          ?R E F L E C T I O N
T H I N G S?
           T?      L
           H ?    O
           I  ?  V
           N   ?E
           G    ?L O V E
           S     ?    T
                  ?  A
            H A T E?H
                   E?H A T E
                  T  ?
                 A    ?
                H      ?
                        ?    D
                  L I F E?   E
                         D?  A
                         E ? T
                         A  ?H
                         T   ?M O R E D E A T H
                         H    ?
                               ?
                           Y O U?
                                Y?
                                O ? M
                                U  ?E
                                R   ?      N
                                S    ? M   O
                                E     ?E   W
                                L      ?   H
                                F       ?  E
                                         ? R
                                          ?E
                                           ?E V E R Y W H E R E
                                            ?
                            Y E S T E R D A Y?        T
                                             Y?      O
                                             E ?    D
                                             S  ?  A
                                             T   ?Y
                                             E    ?N O W
                                             R     ?
                                             A      ?
                                             Y       ?
                                                      ?
                                                    M E? M
                                                        ?E

This Room

This room,
three outside walls;

Rain,
and not the gentle sort;

Windows,
cracked for the breeze;

Thunder
cracks through the air;

Flashes,
Through curtained glass;

Sounds
of cracks and waves;

Silence
In-between it all.

Pay Phone