The Book

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I picked up your book,

left behind as a gift.

Professor Doo Wop's PoemphotoI thought how nice.

Now you have left,

and I think so nice I have the book .

I have the letter you wrote with such eloquent words,

full of philosophy and reason.

Now you are gone and the reason seems mute,

and the philosophy unfulfilled.

Combing my fingers over the checkmarks,

bringing me to attention to the tributes

you made to me, and us, and our friendship.

I feel you presence pour inside of me

and I know.

There is no book, no letter of reason,

no quote of philosophical works

that replace your having died without reason.

©  CMM  2013

Evening Tomb

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Smoked-filled room chokes the senses,
tenant’s visits heightens defenses.

Buried emotions, snuffed stale air,
vacant expressions with sunken stares.

All who come to the evening tomb,
cloud their lives within the room.

Clinking of glasses the flame of the lighter,
two strangers meet, become one-niters.

Reaching from trust now failed,
hopes wrapped up now kept and jailed.

Speaking present, the buried past,
masking in drinks, in hopes it will last.

Long enough to help forget,
strangers, soon lovers, talk and sit.

She now with her tinted hair light,
sits as he listens throughout the night.

Each one look for the night of need,
knowing dawn their guilt will breed.

A different loss, a hollow space,
another night to seek; erase.

Copyright: 2000 CMM

Summer Smiles

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Deeper and deeper I break blacken crumbles of packed soil.

Closer and closer the earth warms wiggle in welcome,

bringing a hallow depth of wet disrupted places.

Spring’s garden now silent from the sun,

now further into the soil given way.

There are welcomes new beginnings

from the yellow petals

the sprouting

smiles

the

Daisy.

Copyrighted: 2009 CMM/ photo 2000 CMM