February 13, 2011

I ceased to write and my mind went numb, fingers stiffened and sadness too. A feeling uncontrollable and worrisome. A creative sense that never wains. Clocks tic then tock. It's four in the morning a book in my hand. If I can't live mine - I will simply read theirs. Who lit this fuse? - jrgfeb2011

February 06, 2011

Great Northeast

Great Northeast
By John R. Greenwood
Winter pain creeping low and mean
Gripping lower backs and shoulders ache
Pharmacy bottle at sink’s edge 
Hands dry-cracked and cramped 
Strain to access white pills
Kitchen floors of scattered puddles
Foyer filled hooks of snow soaked wool
Frozen bootlaces frayed and weary
Men with gray hair whimper and whine
Ice-dam drippings stain ceilings once white
Snowplow-devils pass with smiles and smirks
At driveway’s end 
Mountains high
Begin again once more