Author: gozzter
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Age is an imperfect vessel
Have you ever been trapped in a drive-through lane at MacDonalds? Would you ever even admit it if you had? I mean some things, like sweat stains on the collar of your favourite tee shirt, or the rip in the crotch-seam at the back of your sweatpants which a friend points out as you stand…
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Coffee at MacDonalds
I met himAt MacDonalds –In a quiet sectionTo be sure,But we both were OldAnd had no wishFor noise,Or kidsRunning around our seats. A portly man,With trembling handsAnd a pockmarked face,He made the first attemptTo speak to me,But I was here,On a sudden needFor coffeeAnd did not engage. But as he sat,Now staring straightAhead,I realizedI had…
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Being like a Bat
What is it really likeTo be a bat?OthersHave asked,But nowI think I know. One flewThrough an open doorLast night;The room was hotSo I’d snuck outsideFor a little breezeAnd left a fanTo wobbleIn the room. For a bat,It must have seemedLike the beatingOf a thousand insect wings-A ChiropteralShangri-la. ButThe one that enteredFlew around the walls,ConfusedAt its…
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Tis in my memory locked
For some time now, I’ve wondered what makes some places feel like they are a part of me -or more likely, that I am a part of them… And why are some things only superficially appealing, in spite of their evident attempts to mimic authenticity? I suppose we all have different needs, so perhaps generic…
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The Fallen Leaf
THE FALLEN LEAF The movementCaught meBy surprise –The colour,Too,I suppose. I was walkingSomewhereBehind my eyesThat day,Not in an autumnWood. I should have noticedChangeAll around:The lack of birds,The crunch of leavesUnderfoot;But insteadIt was only thoughtsDancingCarelesslyThrough my brain. ThenI saw a leafCome flutteringDown,Unsteadily:A lost childSearchingFor the groundAnd findingMy footInstead. I wonderedIf it knewAnythingOf Death,Or simplyExpectedSalutationsOn arrival;AssimilationWith its…
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Aye, there’s the rub
When I was very young, my older brother played in a minor role in his high school’s production of Brigadoon, a musical written in the 1940ies. He made it sound like a real but faraway place he hoped to visit one day. He was older than me, so I believed him, but I wondered what…
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In Memoriam Felis
I saw a cat on the sidewalk this morning. I was walking back to my rooms after breakfast in Kerikeri and had not noticed it earlier. I reached down to pet it, but it seemed cold and didn’t stir. Lying on its side, its little face wore a peace that only sun or death can…
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Someplace Safe
I’m looking for a place to rest my eyes-Some place safe;Some place they will not be swept awayIf they land too hard,Or accused of trespassIf they stay too long.They always attract attention though,Like a face peekingFrom behind a curtain,Or lights coming onIn a previously unknown room.They can be a curse,My eyes,And yet without them,I would…
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