Wednesday, December 2, 2020



tucked away in a spidered
corner, a fog-eyed monk

with requisite feathery quill 

scribbles where can we go 

    from here


o ye

of little imagination

behold all the days 

unraveling, time unrolling

    its carpet for little seeds

        germination defies

            your eschatology

but it’s damn near

impossible not to fixate

    upon the moths

        unfluttered in the wax

to contemplate

    the ghost smoke 

        and final ash

is it possible to not gaze 

    into the bone-abyss

        of a shortsighted calendar 

where the end 

is always nigh

a quick glance outside

would reveal a squirrel 

    stuffing acorns into 

        the empty socket

            of the timeless oak

can you even dare

to peel your eyes 

    from the scroll 

and see

    all your fears 

        are paper

step outside and 

ache accordingly

Weekly Scribblings #48: “Words of an Unprecedented Year”


  1. Sadly humanity only have themseles to blame for their reaction or denial to the Covid crisis.

  2. If only we would peel our eyes from. If only we would step outside and look. If only we would all start collectively imagining something joyful and beautiful....

  3. I bet we would accomplish all sorts of things, if we could truly “ache accordingly”.

  4. Dire Doomscrolling ... Dangerous. Enjoyed reading yours.

  5. We all seem to live our lives glues to screens - throw them away for a week and step outside. I ran into a woman at the grocery store and we had a pleasant conversation (quite different from our little 'tat' we had on FB comments...

  6. not sure how i got here, i clicked a series of links of various poetry blogs and ended up here at this poem, and so glad i did. best poem i read today