Summer Rain

The patent ambiguity of time

from summer rain to January snow,

the meanings hidden deep within a rhyme

for hearts alone, that minds will never know,

intangibles alive beyond the ken

of common man and woman. Out of touch

realities where flesh has never been,

a paradise for dreamers. Out of such

I know a place where wrong is never right,

where all the many miseries of man

are vanishing or vanished out of sight

like fairies in the never land of Pan,

Below the far horizon, yet above—

the world of our extraordinary love. 

© 2006 W.D.Neighbors

Bookstore

 He hangs out in bookstores, all dusty and dim,

or is it the bookstore that hangs out in him?
He knows about life in a clinical way
from books he has read and the things people say.

The pants are too short and the face is too long.
The shirt and the bright purple vest are all wrong.
He hides behind glasses with black metal frames
and lives with a cousin whose gold fish have names.

But, he can think thoughts that no other can touch,
like Hawking, string theory, genomics and such.
He quotes from Will Shakespeare and Cicero too.
He knows Aristotle "much better than you".

He eats when he’s hungry and lives without time.
He writes without rhythm and trolls without rhyme,
covertly, in cyberspace rooms where he knows
that he can be anyone, anything goes.

He’s read about life but he hasn’t yet been,
he promised his Mom but he backed out again--
and he’d shed a tear if he knew how to cry.
He’s dying to live while he’s waiting to die.