Monday, November 3, 2014

J.D. DeHart- Three Poems

Glib

the mouth does not
move, the sound
does not follow.
the answer does not 
come.  though waiting,
though watching, no word
is uttered.
if it were to come forth,
it would split the universe
and life would never
be the same.
then they would know
what was really rolling
in the wheel of mind.
so the sitting is silent.


Source

the power streams
down
the face lit up,
an advertisement from
years ago.
we live beneath its
wings,
leaning on its promise
of a better life 
through product.
we rush away,
turning all into endless
commercial space.


Dreams of the Bear

the creature moved
at the fence line
in my dream,
but a force kept it away.
its breath was miles
away
yet splayed before me,
its words distant
and hollow, yet whispered
in my ear closely.
in the dream,
movement is slow, 
labored, impossible,
until the relief of waking.

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