Rhetorical Waves

It started with a few words

Like a leaking faucet

On a dry day

As the hopes of many

Became united

In one discrete shade of

Grey

So they say

That the rhetorical waves

Had begun

From the drops into the ocean

It all was one

In that moment

I knew the sea change

Had already won

My Straw North

The old county

Where I grew up

The straw north

Outside the state park

Where you could hear the rides

At night

Off the highway

That creaked in the evening

And cracked at dawn

The fields filled with

Corn and life

Back on

The other side

Downtown Grass

Amidst the highest

Of high rises

The darkest of pavement

The cracks in the road

And where we always go

There is the downtown grass

As green as a bouquet

Rising the spirts

Of the city dwellers

Who get

That mother nature

Is a part of life

No matter where

We go

Poems for a Poet

Poems are for the poets

Surely not for me

“Words” are a better fitting

In the way I see

Although it has no pretense

No context

Or clearly guided path

I am just a homeless man

Not a gifted Sylvia Plath

Putting words to a paper

As fast as I can

There is no plan or arrangement

Just the connections made

And dues still to be paid