Author: cfblack

  • shadow play

    From my seat in the shade I watch a leafy shadow sway Back and forth in a patch of light It wavers high overhead Oblivious to it’s shadow dance And oblivious of me 5-16-24

  • domestic prozac

    Traumatized She would go out alone To the laundromat And watched clothes in the dryer For hours Tumble over one another Marveling That no one got hurt 5-16-24

  • Convulsive Electric Blues

    Hauntings of a Conscientious Objector: This morning, I remembered how, when the surgery rooms were slow, I’d sometimes assist in the psych ward and you recognized me that day, when I walked in to help in the electro-shock therapy room. Confused, I blurted out, “What are you doing here?” You said your parents kidnapped you…

  • lazy day haiku

    weet, weet, bo weet, weet woods drip liquid red bird calls I inhale the morning 5-10-24

  • Reading Sylvia with Rain in the Forecast on Friday Afternoon

    sitting in the side yard reading Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath on a Friday afternoon light breeze sways upper limbs of trees shadows dance is it mottled sunlight or mottled shade does it matter I’d like to tell her it will be alright but she wrote in permanent ink shroud poems woven with anguished threads…

  • rain

    on its race to return to the sea rain does not discriminate between rich and poor homes it washes the dirty and the clean never asks what is deserving or sends a utility bill 5-9-24

  • ellipsis of the soul

    Who! Who! Who! 3 am, owl in the trees asks and I do not know. I do not like my dreams. The anger and fighting – everything unresolved. Who! Who! Who! 4 am, owl in the trees asks and I still do not know. Restless sleep. I remember failure, the young who died and we…

  • still life

    in a pretty vase waist deep in tap water trying not to die beauty caught in full-bloom strikes an objectified pose the compost pile is calling 5-7-24

  • review of new recruits

    this morning resident geese paraded six goslings in single file a band of frogs on mud banks played poor covers of John Philip Sousa I paid attention to their passing while deep in green undergrowth birds wouldn’t stop talking 5-6-24

  • excuses are for the weak

    rainy mornings I’d stop and save the worms drowning on puddled sidewalks picked them up threw them in the grass check marks on my report card told my parents I was late they would not understand saving drowning worms so I took my punishment and moved on 5-5-24