Election

img_2113

I have a horror
hangover:

a surfeit of tv dribbles
repeating;

the images and words
addictive

and numbing.

I must look away,
change the channel,

I switch to a story of plotted
murder where the killer
is named and blamed
and hunted and destroyed – and

it’s over!

When I can’t resist glancing again,
the crowds are still

raging in the streets.

Time

JoanMountain
Time Moves On

In youth we come through our bodies as explorers
Seeking and measuring
Astounded and disappointed
As we grow into ourselves.

In our long midlife, we travel our path
Forgetting and wandering
Sometimes grateful, mostly blindly seeking
The more we yearn for.

Now, our bodies re-astound us
Aching and refusing
Complaining and attacking
Reminding us of time.