November 13, 2008



People change
Places change
Everything has become

This is my final time
Upon this island
Looking at the water
With innocent eyes

I approach the end
Childhood will become
A thing of longing
Of the distant past

Standing at the end of a dock
Under a large green roof
I look out across the lake



I know what she sees
I can see it too
As I look across
Deep blue water

Memories not to be forgotten
Never to be relived



We set sail from the beach
Once occupied with laughter
Now dead
The water fills the holes

The wind dies
So does the trip
The old man sneers
Taking the helm

Experience leads nowhere
But paddling does
I remember canoes capsizing
But they have not touched water in years

There is a storm coming
And darkness falls
Race back to the cabin
Through the forest

Memories fly



The rain refuses to stop
Unwilling to let me go
Exploring dead trees
And wet marshes

I run back and forth
To the outhouse
Made by my father
His greatest creation

My clothes have become permanently wet
Cold and depressed
I remember times when children ran around
This deserted island

Sitting, playing
With old toys
I look out into the distance
Across the open water

A boat drives by to deliver The Star

November 6, 2008



We take the little boat to the other side
And have to walk through woods
To reach an old cabin
Filled with arachnids

It begins to rain
And everything drips
I will not know if it is done
Until hours after it has stopped

The steps to the porch have rotted
I must be careful
Up into the house
Of my early memories

The water is smarter than we are
It has found more than one door into the cabin
Pots and pans ring when catching the drip
I stay up all night listening to the bells

The fireflies don’t appear

November 5, 2008



Large stones sit like steps
To the cabin on the hill
Although they are actually traps
For broken bones

The cabin is tidy
The women choose their rooms and are left alone
I can only hope they will never meet
The cockroach in the sink

I look out to Roothog
Where the plane went down
I hope it never surfaces
No one can love a skeleton

There is a dog waiting at the door
She looks beyond me into the other world
I reach to pet her
But she rejects my affection

Walk away
Never look back

November 4, 2008



On the edge of a great green house
That floats carefully on the water
Sits a girl who I have not seen
Since she was held in her mother’s arms

Beside stands a boy
Who has grown
Since he ran from side to side along the beach
Refusing to wear the clothes laid out before him

A matured girl
Who is almost a woman
Stands ready to accept the lines
Of the boat edging into the small slip

A teenage boy
Through the door in the wall
Slouches and refuses to speak
Unless provoked

This is my company

November 3, 2008



Standing at the end of the dock
Under a large green roof
I look out across the lake
In search of white waves

I pace up and down wooden planks
Past bags of luggage and groceries
Past the old woman looking blankly into the blue
I wonder what she sees

Two young men emerge from the white building
Carrying sails down to the water

Their lifejackets hang limp, unfastened
What will save them now?

I hear the roar of a motor
I can see the white waves I longed for
As I step from wood to gunnel
I smell gasoline

What a wonderful smell
That of childhood memories