Dillon, In No Particular Order, a prose poem by @EvryManJac

 

 

 

 

 

©2018 by Jack A. Urquhart

Here you come ‘round again
it’s five years now
since you took your leave
and still these parceled posts
arrive in the present tense
mementos of you come home again
in no particular order: Continue reading

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Red Dwarf Trope, prose poem by @EvryManJac

©2018 by Jack A. Urquhart

I don’t know much about red dwarfs,
no expert of celestial bodies here;
not an astronomer, not even an astrologer
casting about for friendly signs and symbols,
a star-lit chart to some heavenly happiness.
I only know that there are a lot of them,
and that red dwarfs are unfathomably slow,
interminably ancient, depleting their resources,
nevertheless, after a universally self-destructive pattern.

Also (not surprisingly), they lack luster.

Like most beings accelerating in space,
red dwarfs never achieve full-fledged stardom;
rather, they collapse slowly on themselves
becoming smaller and immaterial over time
(as well as exponentially more dense).
All the intimacies that fuel a friendly fusion,
are consumed in a dimly read conflagration,
until there is only a gravity-bound center—
no more at the heart of the matter than stillness,
a desolate mass in an expanse of space.
Just another black hole in the billions of us,
invisible to the naked human eye.

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Hobo’s Dream, prose poem by @EvryManJac

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hobo’s Dream
© 2018 by Jack A. Urquhart

In a hometown dream,
I tramp familiar streets,
gnarly stick thrown o’er my shoulder
wags a hobo’s satchel banner,
its colors bandana red, white, paisley.
Worn shoes flap loose soles
like extra maws at my feet.
With each step, they mouth off at me:
floppa-floppa, floppa-floppa,
a duet in ragged-ass reproach.
What does it mean, I wonder,
this dream of down-and-out dereliction?
Only that I’ve grown old, perhaps?
Is that too much to hope?
Only that I’ve grown frightfully old?

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Two Poems, @EvryManJac: There is a Bell; Little Wonder

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a Bell
©2018 by Jack A. Urquhart
(for Dillon)

There is a bell
pendulous and rusting
heavy in the tower
of my still-beating heart
Amidst the calmest hour
I can hear its faintest
steely shimmering
It calls me back
Back home to you Continue reading

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I Haven’t Forgotten, prose poem by @evrymanJac

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 by Jack A. Urquhart

In case you’re wondering,
I haven’t forgotten,
‘though it is many years.
I haven’t forgotten
the way you came howling
into the world,
red faced and wrinkled,
your tiny hands
already curled into fists. Continue reading

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Penitence, a prose poem by @EvryManJac

©2017 by Jack A. Urquhart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just so you know:
I have my regrets.
Doesn’t everybody?
And yes, I am sorry—
sorry for the grief I’ve caused.

That, in a nutshell,
is the story of my life. Continue reading

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Breach of Trust, prose poem by Jack A. Urquhart @EvryManJac


 

 

 

 

 

© 2017 by Jack A. Urquhart

It seemed like nothing at the time
all those many years ago,
no more than an instant’s frustration
when I stooped to let you go—
just the fruit of a sleepless night,
the strain of overwrought paternity set loose.

It seemed all your fault back then,
the toddling source of cacophonous discord,
and that you deserved to take that spill.
No big deal to fall from knee-height,
and surely no harm done, I thought;
nary a bruise on your fat little bum.

Yet the moment you keened,
I knew it to be something more,
and that I’d failed again, again
the limitless tests of love,
and that the damage was done:
a first fracture in the bones of trust.

 

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