Whichaway

Whichaway

Was bet

To place

Not knowing

Where is dinner?

A gambler

On the human race

Should seldom pick

A winner

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

After bloody math

After bloody math

And minds

In ranking tombs

Unknown

Does still this row

Disguise a blessing?

The lesser

Verse a chorus sung

In ceding sorrow

Grown

In vagrant fields

Processing home

Whose real estate

Be damned?

That sacred compact

Pressing once

Now a handful

Thrown

In ranking tombs

Unknown

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

To sense

To sense

The sand

Sifts out

The cedar

Staining

The wading

River pines

To taste

Cranberries

Yet to bog

Weather cloaked

In lowing fog

The barrens

Yield

Her tea

And bitters

Sweet

A flight

Of waxwings

Startles down

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Wee borne creatures

Wee borne creatures

Drawn of light

Flick about

In mortal fright

Of shadows owned

And suns forgot

Peeling round

From cool to hot

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

At once

At once

We used

To grasp

The rail

Put there for

A steady climb

Or the other

Way descending

The rail's still there

Unworn

By hands

Drawn back

From sticky comfort

A fixture in need

Of moving touch

How these bolted things

Hang upon

Our every world

Carried

With us

Now

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Undertaken

Undertaken

In a field

At dawn

Slings of spiders

Wove a glass

To trap the sun

And pass her by

Breaking fast

So many moons

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Those spindly lines

Those spindly lines

Resembling

Mine

Have fetched

A price

To set

Divine

A constellation

Withered, fine

Without stars

To bother time.

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

How deep

How deep

A life

Does spring

From me

Less than plumb

And haft remaindered

I could tighten

My bed

Each morning

In case

It's loosed

By night

The sun

And the wind

Still beat

A round

Until

Gone down

Or died

My thoughts

Gone

With them

Uncontained

No longer

Carry water

But slake

A salty

Reclaimed

Zee

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Built for speed

Built for speed

In consequence

Of roots

That push air

Upside down

My stomach

Growls at

Lions that fly

Or crabs

That scuttle

After scraps

Which claw

Will rip

Or crush

This spring

Unhalting

There is

Too much space

For prideful classification

And growing comfort

Now that

Weeds begin

To take their fill

Too much space

To fur

Or shell

Earth and water

Mix to mud

To void

The die

That's cast

Alone

This time

To un-name men

And animals

Alike

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Everyone who responded

Everyone who responded

Here

Forward

Is not a disaster

That could gain

Such importance

As

People to buy

Goods

From your store

Funny how obvious

It is

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

Soft bonds of love

Soft bonds of love

Are indifferent

The city

Still smouldering

Appears now to be eyeless

In these conversations

None resembles the other

You have a small window

Less pressure

Then first

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

The battery

The battery

Uncharged

A circle of veterans

Blown out

In place

Of canon

Held

The ridge

A company

Mark of pride

Ornamental cherries

Line the boulevards

Of mausoleums

Unknown

To those

Who tamped

In earnest

Somewhere

On this river

Banks another bow

Taught

A branch

To quiver

Endlessly

In current

The morning is

Still young

Of mirrors

This picture

Is too old

To roust

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014

The dirt

The dirt

That has been

Under my finger

Nails home

The point

Of index

Grabbed at

Or formed into

Garden hands

That give

At the slightest

Sun light

Cardboard boxes

Can carry

The rest

Tom McGlynn

copyright 2014