'just another day, but not.
'just another year, but, no, it is not.
'just another hope, but we know it is not.
'just more moments, so why momentous?
'just another opportunity that we both have and have not.
'just another day, but not.
One January One
mother and father
hoped for good
while
I oh I
strove for better
yet we found
this final-seeming report
here and here
scattered around
it says we
got and gave
neither
more nor less
of
worth and can
than
one one other
of
white and man
Worthday Candle
“ t.e.a.r ”
two ways to say and intend
too many ways to rend and cry
too many ways to tear and tear
Who bears the close guilt
for friendship severed
by distant attack on Fort Sumter?
The Close Guilt2021-1861Bob Komives
Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2021The Close Guilt; 2021-1861 :: 2102
They may remember
a too-long year
365 days
nineteen more
twelve more hours
until noon dawn
of too-long sought year
ours
drawn two weeks
too weak
to strength
Kristalltag to Schönertag
mourning through morning
until sun of everyone
rose again
at noon.
Little by Slowly
November, 2016
I inch upward
little by slowly
from this ledge
near bottom
in this abyss
where earth gave way beneath me--
dropping further than I thought my land could drop.
see a climb that will outlive me,
take notice in the dim
of varied walls and sides surrounding:
good sides,
bad sides,
sides with sheared and slippery walls,
sides where I could sculpt and garden,
sides where (little by slowly)
others climb.
They rise from below me.
They lead the way--way above me.
They pause alone to sculpt and
garden.
I shall climb to those nearby:
to those who will outlive abyss,
to those who will pull and push my old bones,
to those who need my stubbornness,
and to those who will feast from my memory
of what was earth above
before collapse.
November, 2020
Despite shrinking time and diminished strength,
I have returned
from the abyss where earth gave way beneath me--
from where I looked up
to a climb I expected to outlive me.
There were shadows and voices
rising from below,
clinging above.
Sunken-but-strong
they would soothe then scold,
come then go,
pull then push.
They would ask then remind
of my memory
of what was earth before collapse.
Little by slowly,
(so little so slowly)
(remote then sudden)
at brink
onto edge
I stand to see
beyond abyss
the great expanse
where
(both changed)
(both enhanced)
reality and memory now dance.