conversations sometimes

begin in the eyes

someone asking if it’s okay

to say something say anything

to a stranger maybe

who won’t turn away

this world can feel so lonesome

losers and winners collide

each one clearly identifies

believes what heads and shoulders say

about features they need to recognize

their own kind

See me in the mirror

I know who I am

See me at the bus stop waiting

a fellow passenger

one more hood-eyed ragged man

I met a father looking for his son

I met a woman who threw away

her chance she said

she knew she’d only have one

We are passers on these streets

fearful of who or what

we might meet

Poets roam the in between

hands in pockets heads in word stream

Listen for whispers

catch a fragment of your dreams

Neither above nor below

human frailties trail like streamers

in a perpetual human parade of floats

Seekers without answers

Wanderers without maps

Collectors of visions

Imagining meaning

Defying surrender as an option

Believers in Wonder

Connectors of Spirit

Temporary guides holding the hands

of fellow travellers

temporarily stalled on the side

of the freeway

Mumbling aloud our inadequate lines

scribbled on ragged pages

ritual practice over and again

Attempts to explain or to expel

our cumulative awkward nature

To shatter its power

To shift the boulder in the trail

To nudge the harbinger’s shadow

To strike the first note of the song

How to navigate the chasm—

the high wire between starlight

and the abyss~