in a corner

and, dare to call it my own:

Its textures were dimpled at birth;

and, the eyes have always had it.

Let whatever wisdom carried

refashion

more stately clothes.

**

Let the Light that shines on all

be ever in my grasp.

**

I praise this day

and my lonely soul

and whatever

its captured;

its worth.

WHB~copyright: 02/12/09.

A Foot In The Stream.

***

I’ll tell you I’m working on it and you’ll know I’ve never lied;

each small step

sends ripples, circles, outward from this place.

There is no better comfort than boldness in times like these;
times, bespeaking, unsteadiness.

There is also the age factor to be wary of:

On solid ground,
your footfalls are leaving small traces
of your Soul.

[Do you not know this? The path widens your perspective, Child. Open your eyes, breathe.]

Do not attempt to pull me back. Daylight shall find me older today…

…The water is stirred, no matter what words escape my lips…

…Only circles of Time perceives them. I’ll carry myself, straight as the Dutch Elm,

a mirror of growth;

a foot,

in the stream.

[copyright:02/03/09]
W.H.B.

no words spoken, aloud. The failure of language becomes completely exposed

like the maple tree in my front yard,

leafless and cold.

**

We set such a premium upon the spoken word,

little knowing the history its  seen:

Old, black men, on porches

have taught.

Even,  in the pause

and taking in of breath,

silence has its place.

**

When my silver-tongue ceases to speak

I’ll take my cue from these:

Bound and boundless

are words.

Only love

can find them.

Have I said to you everything

that’s needed to say?

**

While the words pull at me,

a spent ciggarette smoulders in the safety-tray,

a car moves, screeching, up the road,

and, somewhere,

a kid confronts the probable conflicts of the street.

**

Have I told you of all I worry about?

All the worries of my mis-spent youth,

calling back to you;

recalling the presence of doubts

and fears, with a tingle up the spine…

…visions of a dead man, lying next to a coffee table..

**

..I’m clasping my chest, recalling the absence,

the shock, I felt on a day like any other:

That empty chair,

tugging at me,

in loss.

[copyright o1/26/09~5:49AM]

wHb.

I entered uncharted water.

The nightly news didn’t help matters.

Each morning,

I’d awaken, unshorn of warmth;

more of the same, spent,

feelings,

fallen

to

the

floor.

pushes past the settled–

coming to rest

like a fallen leaf.

**

Eventually, we might see

an expansion of riches:

**

Blown bits of our

misfortune;

lifted by Angels

or, an unknown opportunity

crying for

tomorrow.

W.H.B.~01/03/09.~revision~11:59AM.