writhing and gasping under the weight of two hands, rocking
back "one" forth "two", back "one"
and forth "two"
mama, i need you to know i’m sorry for
who i see looking back at me
i need you to see my own two hands come up grasping and heaving and
rubbing and kneading for breath,
reworking feeling to my red-stained face
only the corners of its eyes stained brown,
a kiss hello and goodbye from each tear to have
streamed down my chin
in cascades or in bursting pipes

Fishing
Long day waiting
As the fish run and play
Reeling in,hopes of a big catch
Success

Onward to the dawn
though the night
is dark and balmy.
Nothing here is clean,
nothing has a purpose.
Falling down I realize
I should have been
more careful
I don't know now
if I can stand
I think I broke my hip!

Tinker and twiddle
in this workshop of mine,
always examining
the toys witch I find.

Fixing the broken
mini pianos and doll,
the sailboats, kites
and balls where they fall.

There are other
things that I find,
when I go out walking
after I've dined.

souls where I find them
all tattered and torn,
the promising faithless
battle-scared and forlorn.

Drowning in the gutter,
down on ragged knees
making promises sweet,
all ready to please.

A cold day met by even a colder night
The night I will leave the concrete jungle behind for the very last time

All aboard, I glanced at the clock 11:59, and it is right on time
I looked ahead just like I thought no one will wave me off

And that’s when I saw on the stairs all my students, principal, and the gym teacher I kind of had a crush on
Each with glistening tears waving back at me

There was a lump in my throat the size of Mt. Everest
I wanted at once to suspend this moment in time

Here since before the last star winked out
on this cool late December day.
So quiet each leaf's fall seems a shout.
I love it here but know I can not stay.

The frost reflects myriad sun spears
when at last the sun clears far oak trees,
The first finch of the day appears;
it flits off when I rub my sore knee.

High up a hawk is pestered by some crows
who know better than to get too close.
My isolation quietly grows..
I think and wiggle my cold toes.

revisited January 23rd, 2024
on the evening before yours truly
(the one and only Matthew Scott Harris),
a stand up comic wannabe, who
historically heartily hales
from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
undergoes oh joy rapture colonoscopy.

Three days before that first appointment
with estimable gastroenterologist
Doctor Kellen Karl Kovalovich
regarding upcoming procedure
scheduled for August 17th, 2022),
unfortunately yielded inconclusive results
meaning the excretory material
not satisfactorily expelled.

I remember how
you were there
when he left.

"I just feel so alone" I cried to you.

"This is the last night you'll spend alone"

You stayed on the phone with me
until I fell asleep that night,
and every night thereafter.

You didn't know it then
and you never will,
but you saved my life.

She crawls like the ghost

of the distorted spider dancer

to the bottom of the pyramid

as sand blown eyes watch over her.

She sniffs for what might be below

and knows her soft quilted bed hoping

to soon land on the lit-up blue, green and yellow

sunshine where lakes of mirror blue

bring her to dream of funny faced fish

and kitty cats blowing smoke rings.

She works her way deeper under

to where she drains from drainpipes into vapor

What is it about a moon that's full
That lends itself to song and verse,
And mesmerizes every one of us
As in its beauty we immerse?

This globe of unmatched beauty
Brings lovers and dreamers near,
And share its light for all to see
This wondrous gold laced sphere.

The full moon a gift to everyone
No matter where we might be,
It lights a path to guide the way
If we'll take the time to see.