Thoughts Have Hands

Some words feel strange,

the way they throw rocks inside my brain.

Fog up windows so I cannot see;

Spread confusion about what is meant,

Add dimensions to thought,

Crack cement walls built for sanity’s sake,

Leave me to meander in unusual directions.

Take a word like nevertheless —

An interesting attraction —

For if never means never

As in well — never,

What’s the-less for?

It seems to lead to a half open backdoor.

Never is:

‘Never will I see you again’

Death to the one you’ve been hanging with,

The message perfectly clear.

‘Never will I forgive’ feels definitely forever,

And ‘never will I forget’ and ‘never will I let you go’

Change directions when you tack on the-less.

Nevertheless adds possibilities and something more.

Nevertheless returns to the beginning,

Makes me think of alternate directions to travel,

When lost, might I be found,

And consider places I stayed too long

Or way too short,

Wonder too, if I’ve ever really known,

Or even asked,

what it is to be honestly invited?

Nevertheless is more than nevermore.

There the never feels like never,

But add the-less and my heart thinks more,

As if I get a second chance.

A turn to belief and a reprieve of my long sentence.

THH

7/28/24

Day and night,

Driving home late,

Or rising from the edge of sleep,

Sudden delicate insights

Appear to crystallize,

A fragile architecture

Of words and images surge

in my brain.

Hurriedly,

Visions must be recorded,

Profound communications written down

In a rush of creative energy.

Dice thrown from the corners of the mind,

Spill on the street,

As the urban sprawl traffics rebuke of the

poet’s intent

scattered in black on white

across the page

A jumble of accidents and impotence.

THH

7/26/24

At morning light

One eye opens

A blue-black dog penetrates

With quizzical curiosity,

noses in …

Awake? Yes, yes..

No no…

Unsure if dreams and the cool,

cave of sleep are ready

To flee the night’s rest,

Not sure of doing more than rolling over.

The eye takes in a slow dawning of perspective:

One big friendly face nosing from the foreground,

A dog eyed stare of wonderment,

A sandy beach background and a calm sea floats before the lazy eye to the horizon, numbed to the softening grey, white light

Obscures morning.

A scene for recurring reverie

meets this quiet moment,

brings a gentle smile and

opens the day

before the rigamarole piles in.

At daylight

covers no longer comfort,

Elbow shades eyes from the call of day.

Legs stretch side to side,

Touch the warm edges of materiality,

Feet slide to solid floor

Assure a firm foundation to balance awakening

Step forward in ritual confidence

Time directs appointed events

Patience straddles plans

Tasks engendered by habit align

As the day rolls from routine to meet circumstance.

Break fast with slow intent,

Black tea brews

aroma enchants

Puts off thinking.

Dog pants for bones

Demands attention

Step outside

Greet the summer air wet with dew

Scents offer blessings

Crepe Myrtle dangles bright red, and still,

Black-eyed Susan’s beckon the sun

A new day smiles at possibilities

Soon heat drives all decisions

The sad consequence of human ambition

By afternoon light the day prays for night.

Daylight ends with thanksgiving

Sunsets are toasted with wine and cheese,

Revelry gladdens hearts eager for cool air,

Shirts open to the breeze

Smiles widen as shadows stretch over terrace and lawn

Children swing with glee

Parents nod happily

Celebrating survival of another day’s heat.

Night once a time of trepidation

Now offers relief from poor vision.

THH

7/25/25

The wolf hunts

Not alone

But as brother and sister,

Father and son,

Neighbor with neighbor travel

forests and field seeking a meal.

The wolf feeds its young with prey killed.

All of the pack shares some food to eat

Celebrates the feast howling with relief

The hunter tracks

Follows a trail

Waits for a chance aims, fires and kills

The prowling beast.

His hunt makes a trophy of dead meat.

In the stealth of pursuit or hunt

no difference,

But one we call sport

With a trophy to admire;

One food for life to transpire.

THH

7/24/24

A young man meets a hungry wolf.

He feeds the hungry beast and they bond as friends.

Together they work and play day after day.

One day the man and the wolf wrestle around and the wolf pins him down.

A horseback rider passing by shoots the wolf with his long rifle.

The wolf rolls over dead.

The man in tears of rage

leaps to his feet,

pulls his pistol and shoots the rider dead.

Shocked by loss and full of dread he buries his friend with the hapless rider

Pulls off horse’s saddle and sets him free

Tragedy of just intention; a prevailing symmetry remains.

THH

7/24/24