Saint Paul's Cathedral 1989

The interior is mute,

apart from November.

You see an American tourist

standing longer than anyone

at The Light of the World.

Alpha and Omega.

The way I look up

directly under the dome,

expecting more than afternoon.

Crossed paths foreshadow

celebration to come.

Cathedral-worthy.

Patience!  Twenty years is nothing.

I capture the event on film.

Overexposed geometric staircase.

And just outside those massive doors:
You.  Browsing a table of books.

tk/July 2015


Lovely delivery by R.A.D. ...

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Mother Lode

I squat like a miner;

sift through rubble,

barefoot in Levis.

Memories swirl the pan ―

most of them look the same;

unfossilized, too liquid to keep.

Ruby lips. The American dream. 

Now and then a sparkle ― a nugget

looks up at me with human eyes.  

Clementine!  Can't take everything, darling.

Just a few. I pack it neatly in the box

labeled "Initial Boom".

Souvenirs line up like herring.

Gradually decompose,

bloom sweet and pungent;

fertilize a second chance ―
my destiny.

tk/July 2015


R.A.D. Stainforth brings my words to life...

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