quiet now
in the small hours
of the morning
with the heart
and mind
aligned
peaceful now
as the new day
dawns
and everything
seems as one
in the vast expanse
is it a straight line
from our ancestors
to now
or is there a circle
that completes each moment
are we really alone
in this world
or surrounded
by the billions
who came before
and since
(D James)
I remember when
you had to buy tokens
to ride the subway
and phone calls
were a dime
if you could find
a pay phone that worked
I remember when cabs
wouldn’t leave Manhattan
for the other boroughs
and street lights
were few
I remember when
computers were so big
they had rooms
of their own
and no one
had one at home
I remember when
you had to make the bank
by 3 pm
and never missed
a Friday visit to the teller
or you were without cash
all weekend
and people wrote checks
bought stamps
and mailed their bills
and if this
were written then
I wouldn’t be able
to share it with you
(D James)
rushing
to get somewhere
do something
finish
wanting
to get to
the end
everything
else seems like
wasting time
all this
waiting around
“what time
is it not
now”
(D James)
not enough
sleep tired
too many
cigarettes tired
tired all the
time tired
two in the morning
writing
poetry tired
brain tired
road tired
time for bed tired
over-tired
wishing I didn’t
have to get up
and go to
work tired
nodding off
with my fingers
on the
keyboard tired
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
(D. James)
where does it
go
the time
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)
staring
out the window
watching the light change
bare trees
drag shadows
across gray
roof-tops
sunlight glints
off passing cars
the day goes on
with or without us
(D James)
to dance
like the bones
don’t ache
to run
with the speed
of a panther
to laugh
with the abandon
of a child
to work
and play
and love
as if
I cannot fail
to sleep
like the dead
and dream
as the mystics do
this is how I wish
to spend
the days and nights
before returning to dust
(D. James)
thinking thoughts on
trains in tunnels
that take us to
toiling tasks like tinker toys
trudging to their terminus
can we keep
clear of calamity and
concious of creation or
will we wile awhile then
whip ourselves or
take the time
to think thoughts on
trains
while wishing
we weren’t wending our
way to work
(D. James)
flame under
black kettle
waiting for you
to come through
the door
the sound
of water
about to boil
your scent
permeates
the apartment
the water
whistles
everywhere
reminders
of you
this
is what I
came here for
(D. James)
talking
through static
for hours
about life
about love
the past
the future
everything
and nothing at all
of all
we could do
with the time
there is nothing
better
than this
(D. James)
the time
between here
and there
from you to me
and back again
a journey
leading
to us
feeling
the fear
diminish
like distance
when we are
together
at last
(D. James)
how it is
that time
moves
at different speeds
the hours apart
seem as days
days as weeks
then
suddenly
you
in my arms
and the days
seem as hours
hours as minutes
then I am gone
lost in a calendar
of waiting
until
I see you again
(D. James)
counting
the hours
between
here and there
more than
time
and greater
than mere
geography
wondering
how long
how far
before it all
comes together
(D. James)
Doing
what needs
doing
being
right where
you are
Nothing broken
nothing to fix
even when
the world
seemingly tells
you so
Just remember
that everything
everything
changes
(D. James)
high heeled shoes
short black skirt
smooth legs
drive the herky-jerky
old men crazy
scratching and blinking
shaking their balding heads
remembering a time they had
wishing they weren’t
who they are
for one more day
before she walks
away
leaving them with
the faintest scent
of perfume
a memory
of a memory
lingers
(D. James)
An agreement
time
It flies
in your face
while you’re not looking
What time is it
where you are?
Daytime
Wintertime
Nighttime
Springtime
Daylight Savings Time
Don’t we all
want more time?
Six hours ahead
three hours behind
It would have to end
for it to be all the same
(D. James)
Spun out
with nowhere
to turn
Looking for
a piece of mind
Knowing it’s
what we make of it
that matters
But still holding back
giving in to frustration
and wasting countless hours
(D. James)
