Friday, January 10, 2014

TAKING THE BUS TO VISIT MY MOTHER

Gray evening rain on the bus windows
and everything seen through a gray filter:
gray people, gray red cars,
traffic lights three shades of gray
blinking in the spray.
A woman walks her dog
through a graveyard,
the dog props its leg against a marker,
pissing on the stone.
I arrive at the Care Home,
the night pierced by
streetlights, headlights, porch lights,
the night falls all over us.


copyright 2014 David Elsey


ALBERT'S THURSDAY NIGHT

Albert's father is an empty wine bottle on the warped floor.
His brother and sister sleep,
he listens to their even breathing
down the hallway,
he drinks his father's wine.
Out of work and needing a shave
Albert waits for a single day
that will make sense by nightfall,
that will listen to his voice
muttering some kind of prayer.
His father drinks at the bar until closing,
then drinks at his buddy's place till dawn.
His father will arrive
when the sun spreads up the sides of houses,
he will be a pair of thick legs
wobbling down the hall,
a lump falling into a twin bed.
And then Albert will sleep
in a darkness blacker
than the nights he runs from.


Copyright 2014 David Elsey




Thursday, June 6, 2013

WHY DO YOU WRITE?

Loss.
All the emptiness
like blank paper.
I fill blank paper
with all I have left.


copyright 2013 David Elsey

SHARING

We all share poverty:
winos sleeping on concrete,
children with weekend fathers.
But the sun strolls over the horizon
and steam lifts off the frost
floats high and mingles
with the blue flower of sky.
The sun is a pulsing heart
offering the earth life.
To wake to bright sunlight
and open a window to the weather
is a gift.
That gift remains
as the sun stays put,
while we on the ground
turn away again and again.


copyright 2013 David Elsey

Friday, May 31, 2013

WINTER EVENING

Hope flys like a sparrow
and darkens as the sky darkens
with the promise of death each night
migrating with the season.


Copyright 2013 David Elsey

Saturday, December 15, 2012

THEY PISS IT AWAY

They piss it away,
some of our gifted artists.
Suicide slow or fast.
Just another corpse.


copyright 2012 David Elsey

Thursday, January 19, 2012

THE ONLY ONES TO LOVE

The people who give a fuck
are the only ones to love.
They've been in the minority
all their lives.
When they need it:
lend them money,
let them sleep on your couch,
listen to their problems.
We've got to stick together,
the buddy system,
all we have is each other.



Copyright 2008 David Elsey