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Posts Tagged ‘city’

Between Buildings

As children we sought new hiding spots,
explored between houses, down paths,
under benches, through gaps in stone
walls and wooden fences, between
churches and tombstones and stained
glass in day light, sheds and gardens,
between buildings where strange, unseen
flowering vines hid in summer,
unpicked fruit trees blossomed and no one
noticed us, they never even looked,
they wouldn’t have seen us
even if they tried,
even if they wanted to,
we had found the gaps to dance and sing in.

Peace in cities is in the wanderings
down side streets, alleys that lessen
the humming of the universe, where
graffiti can be appreciated and life can
be seen, felt in every window and on every
balcony, families sharing meals and someone
sitting out enjoying a beer and a smoke
listening to the radio,
the urban plants do their best to clean the air
between buildings, the only stillness left.

Then there was us in Venice,
it is better than they say,
being lost in Venice means anything
you wish it to mean, there is no
childhood pretending needed.

The apartment we stayed in had a
neglected courtyard between four walls,
over grown, cracked, forgotten, rusty barred
balconies and ripened vines, tattered drying
clothes out on lines, the sun was trying
to touch it all, the climbing plants grew
where it was possible to grow in the gaps
between brick rows out of the beautiful
sinking city and rose like
our heart fires rose.

At night, to look between buildings
into that city slivered sky, chasing
what can’t be seen, perhaps
a star or a place, some dream in the gaps
that dreamers dance between
what’s been built and what’s been felt,
in the veins of the city, or of the heart,
in the center, in between it all at night,
there is always hope for a small glow
of faint warm light.

Kyle McHale     2016

 

 

 

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My Westward Mind

A calling to my westward mind,
But I a stubborn east-lee soul,
What wonders stay out there to find
A landscape that once truly stole
The dreams of men whose families kept
In all that pain but never wept,
Yet strived to seek another way,
Packed up that carriage, moving on
To some new tune of western song
To follow the sun at red ends day.

A place kept near and close down in
Where wild calls and spirit seeks
A chance for the true journey-man
To not perish on an east-lee street.
Venture forth! Venture forth!
Find out what life is truly worth,
Watch the plains spill out with sun,
Dip in a river wide with fear,
Hold close those things that are so dear.
Watch a herd of bison run

Like changing winds of giant domes,
A bison’s back or thunder cloud,
Confusing start to a new home,
On the edge is living now.
In that edge a canyon stays
Waiting for heavy hearts to pray,
And sway among a wild place,
A brown bear’s spirit hiding out
Where driven up are magic trout,
Where all is comfort in the space.

A calling to my westward mind,
A storm not seen so deep within,
Building smoke like the ancient kind
When one small flame has to begin
A roaring traveler’s blaze
That fire’s the soul into the haze,
When it clears what stays is peace
That seeps through once painful veins,
Heartache that’s released after heavy rain,
The past is now the lonesome east.

Kyle McHale      2012

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