men


Ok, so it’s been over two years. Life is so mysterious. It swallows time whole with great gulps and never looks around. And thus my life has been. At 52, I’m wondering about 62. Anyone else at this point? I’m watching others and wonder how they’ll be at my age. Others are probably wondering the same thing about me no doubt.

I’ve said before I’m a twenty year old caught in a 52 year old body. That hasn’t changed. I still enjoy being a kid. Playing tennis with my daughter is fun. I’m not too bd for an old guy. But life is grand and fun.

I need to become motivated. My muse has sat dormant for so long. Any suggestions on getting it started would be so appreciated. I’ve love to hear from you!

Dave

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Where The Fenceline Runs
 
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by Dave Barber (Author)


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In love’s night,

the moon is full,

your breasts – ripe fruit to pick!

your softness, ready to taste

 

tasting passion,

a sweet sweet wine,

every drop is mine,

every drop won’t be wasted!

 

 

4 Jan 09

Your scribbled notes

illegible numbers.

 

My notes,

penned in cursive

cursive love,

on glass.

 

Mine,

retained in place

Yours?

Scattered around

 

Somehow,

they spell marriage

 

Dave

On the last day,

sun heat, spring fragrance

will hit our faces,

I’m  safe in my studio

(Maybe)

and absently,

you’re watching

police shows,

a settlement of 30 years

maybe.

 

Friends will phone

and you’re talk of gold,

I’ll dispense life 

in small doses

since I’ve had mine

since I’ve used mine.

 

Thank  you for the reddish autumn

those blackbirds perching

and singing,

voices as they were,

my daughter bewildered by them

(at her age not now)

Now she has her own.

 

Last night

a coyote

left prints in tranquil curves,

looked for a moment,

went his way.

 

Dave

Flash,

a nightfall fierce winds beset us

rivers rose across states

bridges collaspe

people fall beneath mainstreet

washed away.

 

Snow obscures detail 

to defeafness,

men debate jobs,

and victory in votes

means little.

Change?

food in their hands

would be change

warmth not weapons

would be change,

A Seine free,

a rio released,

million pregnant women

left to birth.

 

that would be change.

 

20 Dec 08

Dave

i

In my doom year,
the day of numbers,
my soul was splintered
and I wondered
what part would go first?

That part without knots
that vacated portion
rotted and without mercy
no, that goes last
if at all.

ii

These are the versions,
one is the cancer’s end gate
where it swings open
squeaks and closes solid.
(Yes closure is solid.)

Then, there’s sympathy-
(to a point)
and the long descent
a bittercoldness,
horrified
counting breaths
one,
two,
gone.

iii
This widow has stayed
strange hours
hovering at the side
staring out the window
at red mountains.

iv
Curse this!
I’m ready to slip
between the spots of time
that segment of minus 43 secondth
(Yes I count them)
and disappear
into quietude.

Dave Barber
18 December 2008
Natural Laws

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