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)

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)

just you

but this damn waiting
feeling spun out
lost

knowing you’re there
somewhere

too far

then I close
my eyes
and listen

can see
your smile
almost hear
your laugh

feel you
right here
with me

(D. James)

and I can’t find
any that fit

or don’t sound
self-serving

what’s left
is silence

maddening
deafening
unbearable
silence

(D. James)

when there is
nothing to say

and so
I say
what’s
right there

” … “

(D. James)

rub the nape
of your neck

run my hand
along
your waist
to the pale belly

you roll over
stare straight
into me

seeing
who I really am

not who I project
to keep the world
at bay

but who
I want to be

who I am
when it’s safe

you smile,
revealing
your true self

I don’t know
if you do that
with others

but to me
you are always
an open door

inviting me
to step through

and I’m curious
what, if anything,
I do for you

(D. James)

What if the old man
isn’t wandering or lonely

What if he has
all the answers
and knows it’s pointless
to say anything

Now who do you
feel sorry for?

(D. James)

Everything goes
black
and silent

This lasts
six or seven
hours

Then my eyes
open and the world
is remade
in an instant

(D. James)

for what
does not exist

All chatter
and clutter

with no way
to turn down
the sound
or change
the channel

(D. James)

What does any
of this accomplish?

I’d discuss it
but that only
leads us back
to the beginning

(D. James)