Here is what I have

Four Poems:
Here is what I have


A Drop of Old Rain

There’s was a drop of old rain on the pane
today, just a dry spot where it used to be,
that I should have seen—
it was blown away, after the rain…
this morning!

It gleamed with grime around its
rounded edges (my neighbor told me:)
dirt and time over new rain overspread it,
sorry to say, I never saw it!

No: 2650 (1-10-2009) by Dlsiluk



Death and Melancholia
(A Dog’s Story)

Coming from across the street
Two dogs that was asleep
A light green fence behind them
Halfway they bark and yelp
They show their teeth,
The black bulldog threatens me,
I slip out my gun from under my coat
They’re yelps reach into the master’s house
Sound waves, with a long reach
He slips away from his coffin
As its owner opens the gate…
as my gun slips back into its sleeve.

No: 2651 (1-10-2009) by Dlsiluk



Windsand


Windsand runs over the misty grass, below as two condors dishevel their underbelly feathers, from high up in the Andean cliffs, their wings overlapping one another, as if not to be blinded by wind and sand…rain falls, wetness falls on wetness, they know nature’s repeating itself, like the ocean waves, like thunder and lightening, like they do with windsand.

No: 2652 (1-10-2009) by Dlsiluk



Backyard Sheep Herder

It is mid November, I walk around the old city’s backyards, of Huancayo, Peru, watch the sheep eaten clean the rolling grass, an old man’s hat covers his ears like corn, I am learning, simply by walking, learning in the mid November sun, side streets and backyards, dirt roads, and adobe houses, tell more stories than pebbles on the road. No one knows why the sheep are eating in the back of this tenant building, but the old man knows and God knows, but answering questions here is not something respectable people care to take in, matter-of-fact, they’d prefer I stop my walking.

No: 2653 (1-10-2009) by Dlsiluk