14 Peaks

From the beginning

we shake hands with death

At first as a stranger

when caught in its net

And last as a friend

bearing gifts from beyond

A bridge for one crossing

past futures begone

While leaving behind

 the measure of fate

 Transcending tomorrow

  we unlock its gate

What’s last becomes first

closing open interred

a singular journey

—not shaken but stirred

(Watching 14 Peaks: December, 2021)

The Omaha Gate

Lost in a card game

that others would pass

I feel the time slowing

while covering fast

A dim all-night roadhouse

blue plate of regret

whose neon but flickers

my hunger to bet

A pot full of memory

has come unannounced

with bare knuckled waging

I raise every doubt

But the road’s calling silent

 its direction unclear

my thumb pointing inward

to ante the fear

The odds long but taken

to gamble and run

my fortune extended

and past rebegun

A graveyard sits lonely

on the side of a hill

 awaiting those fated

last dealer to kill

A light in the distance…

the ‘Omaha Gate’

it’s twelve minutes early

tomorrow is late

Asleep in the boxcar

alone with myself

the questions keep playing

—one ace left undealt

(Sinking Springs Diner: December, 2021)