Friday, February 09, 2007


On a sunny afternoon
I can step out for a smoke
And watch a throng of soldiers
Barely younger than myself
Paw a girlie calendar.
Their manner is jovial,

Their lusts are reasonable,
But today I turn away.
Leave my vice in silence
And solitude.

The daylight is pale and sweet
And from the West, a slight breeze
Whispers between the palm fronds.
When I close my eyes and breathe,
I can notice how the air
Smells identical to the
Way it once did in my youth,
Back on the shores of Huron.

And then through all the banter,
I notice the tufts of grass
That grow beneath the barbed wire,
And I transcend.


Blogger iamcoyote said...

That's just lovely, Milo. I like "their lusts are reasonable." Such an evocative phrase. We're thinking of ya over here. Take care.

2:33 PM  
Anonymous soul pumpkin said...

...ahh...there's the line about the grass under the wire...i knew it was forthcoming...good on ya, Milo...

7:12 PM  
Blogger Pixie said...

Beautiful Milo.

5:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hope you're able to resolve the "the rift between [your] professional and personal identities", So you can continue to write beautiful poetry.

I too had issues with that thin red line and opted to write only on the personal so as not to jeopardize my position and my professional credibility.

When I need to write about my job I do so in a journal notebook, that way I don't keep it inside. If I don't it festers within me producing dark stuff that oozes out much like the fetid open sewers you must come across.

You'll remain in my prayers until you return.


8:56 PM  

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