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Posts Tagged ‘time’

A Night on a Train Window

I don’t know that face that’s
over mine, it seems old,
not in years but in time spent,
it stares back, through me and
I stare through it
floating on a night-train window.

I focus on the whites of his eyes
to not see the black of them
and wish I had another drink so
I could forgive, forget the world
flicking by, through my
translucent face, printed smears
of distorted sweeping concrete
and light, black air and purple
silhouetted trees, missing fields
with broken flowers after heavy rain,
and litter angels picking up
what they can find on the streets.

It goes by so fast.
I don’t talk to you anymore,
you are in the past
and I cannot get there.

Am I the train or the dark air,
the seat or the glass,
those eyes or the sadness
of that translucent mess?

Am I the past tracks,
or am the next?

Kyle McHale            2016

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Sky Message

Up there, cracked crust,
Continental drift, ancient collisions,
Earth history sped up
On that blue canvas,
A million years in a day.

Cirrocumulus shaped just right,
If you were blind and could
Reach out it would be brail
In the sky, only those few
Could read it.

I do not know what it would say,
A message from those before perhaps,
Or from the earth before people walked it.
We are just spectators here,
We are more temporary than the shifting skies.

Kyle McHale          2013

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In the Hours

When do we live
After hearts snap
In the hours
Between sleep and wake?

As if these times
Are surreal,
Sunrise, sunset,
Hours of sleep and wake.

We live, or live dead.
Not every dream
Is a pinch from
Over nor seem

The least bit dreamy.
It could be a dream
And nightmares
Cannot harm you.

Nothing can,
For it could be a dream.

Kyle McHale      2004

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The Keeper

The farewell light, the watch tower,
The candle keeper up so late,
The flickering thoughts, the sadness stays
When off go those but some must wait.

One day upon returning, maybe never,
The coastline torch that was left behind,
The keeping light may have changed hands
But the light still stays for those to find.

Aged old man are you the one
Who sent me off those years ago?
Are you the one who keeps the light?
Are you the one who guides my soul?

A ship amongst a lonely shore,
A night hanging low in moonlit air.
Fade away into the world then
Find light from a man with silver hair.

Tell him a tall-tale or two,
Watch the light and share his drink,
Do not forget he keeps the shore,
And as you talk, he will watch as he will think.

Kyle McHale      2012

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In it’s White Madness

The veil of a moonlit cover
Dusts the woods and open field
With an eerie sense of wonder
And the moon dance that is real.

Attempt anything in it’s madness,
What seems hidden is highlighted,
What seems forgotten is remembered,
Those secrets kept are spilled over
And seep into all that’s covered

By that strange keeper over head,
That has tortured through the ages.
When in secret fashion revealed
Like prisoners broken from their cages.

A split rail fence won’t keep it in,
Nor stone wall or stiff tree line,
No door, no tarp, no roof is safe
From the casting white spell of moon time.

Go hide, go run, go lie in the field,
Seek shelter under birches or pines,
Run from the past or the darkness,
Finding you the spell of white moon time.

Dance in its strangeness and give up
The secrets, for it already knows.
The victors are mad and dancing,
The victims are hiding down low.

Kyle McHale       2012

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Night Tahoe

About the ancient shaping time,
This craft does form a peaceful sweet,
An air I have never tasted,
That sits on head and tugs the cheek

To magic tasting air. I sit
Outside, above the world sits,
Streaking stars with wondrous eyes
Among huge pines that stretch to fit

To fill pure beauty gap.
What is happening here?
My heart lay still but soul awake,
I sit and think in chair.

The dance of life is slow,
How far away is this place?
World of dancing peace
Exist to change my face.

I have never smelled so sweet an air,
Star dotted paper backs the trees,
Rolls out to cover all but down,
The sweetest things I have to see.

Season’s summer but heaven too,
Sweet kissed air, pine sap residue,
Seep into the water blue
Of a sweeping magic hue.

This feeling I only know,
Where I see and have to go,
Which direction time will go,
Lifting nights at Lake Tahoe.

Kyle McHale      2009

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