begin
at the middle
go back
to the end

then circle round
to finish
at the beginning

once you figure
it out
let me know

I’ll be waiting

(D James)

seems like it
used to crawl

now I lose
track
of the days

and memories
are like stories
someone once told

I’m not even
certain
I’ve not written

this poem
before

(D James)

pulling cars across
metal track

to the top
of the mountain

the skyline
like a picture
postcard
at sunset

a symphony
at full tilt

a mass of steel
and glass
thousands
of lighted squares
and twinkling
red lights

reminds you
that this city
in its ebb and flow
was here before you arrived

and will remain long
after you are gone

(D James)

bare trees
drag shadows
across gray
roof-tops

sunlight glints
off passing cars

the day goes on
with or without us

(D James)

silently mocking
my attempts
to scribble
something

of weight

the blank page
like a snow-covered
mountain

challenges my ability
to communicate
and whisper-laughs
at my thoughts of words

until I say
to the blank page
“ok, you write something”

then there is silence
and I can finally settle down
to begin the work of stringing words
together into something that makes sense

to someone
somewhere

(D. James)

never and always
right and wrong

bone and dust
blood and guts

intransigent and flexible
solid and liquid

everything
and
nothing

(D James)

when what lingers
is the dying vibration
of a sound

before the next key
is struck

when the world
makes sense

and life is found
in the silence

(D. James)

and the
screen in your head
goes black

who ever said
you can’t get there from here

didn’t know where you were
to begin with

so how did they know
where you’d end up

(D. James)

if this were
an actual poem
we would tell you
how to feel
about it

or at least
express something
worthy of an
emotional response

(D. James)

and and and
bringing together
disparate thoughts

and and and
an endless string
of ideas

and and and
where I’ve been

and and and
where I’m going

(D. James)