Tag: Don Iannone

Your Place

there is a region–
a place, you tend to live
dwell daily
where you find yourself
when the phone rings unexpectedly

even between heartbeats
you live there
because that’s all you know
that’s all you are
so long as you’re there

you don’t have to find your place
it finds you
when you least suspect it
when you don’t try
it knows you better than you know yourself

you slip into it
like a foot into a shoe
like a restless thought
passing through your mind
like a camera lens capturing a picture

you assume it’s reality–
this place where you live
it assumes nothing
because it knows you
better than you know yourself

Lingering Dream

I’ve seen too much
Things eyes shouldn’t see
Let alone gaze upon
Too late to erase memories
That never can be undone

No looking back
Hoping it was a mirage
An illusion
That will fade
And disappear

Now every other thing I see
Reminds me of it
That lingering dream
That I can ever be separate
From all else

Tufted Titmouse

small, gray, spiked hairdo
overflowing with song
sweet as candy cane
prominent black eyes
lumps of anthracite coal

no flocks for this chickadee
always in pairs, or alone
fussy scolding voice
when perturbed by a mate
otherwise chipper and cheerful

this morning a pair pecks
nibbles seed in the back feeder
selective in their tastes
given it’s spring
most likely babies in the nest

An Invitation to Dance

Last night, I slept
with the moon and stars at my back
Awoke with daybreak begging
for an invitation to waltz

Dancing is in my bones
Deeper than the south
and all the world’s confederate soldiers–
those salmon swimming against the current

Dreams, terrible parabolic manifestations
Before their time, found me, washing me overboard
like a tremendous tidal wave
rushing past all resistance

Plunging me into the deepest place
a soul can imagine, yet survive
Deeper even than the baritone monks
singing aside the glassy pool, reflecting our existence

Some things are easy
Integrating the confederacy within us is not
Nor is the dance of 1,000 years
Once accepted, ends all invitations

Why They Argue

They argued, firing ugly words back and forth
Just their pain talking–
The pain of staying alive
Of knowing they’re closer to death than life

Picking scabs from old wounds
Making them bleed
Blood is life
Why not make yourself bleed

Growing old isn’t easy
Everything you thought you were falls apart
They bicker because they’re falling apart —
Cell by cell, breath by breath

Sometimes breathing is even too hard
Eventually the arguing stops
That’s when you know–
The end is near