Eyewitness Passersby
David J Walker
Remembering the publicness
of this space
I am a guest
I am a ghost
And will leave without touching
The façade that appears as my image
What will the eyewitness say
How will the witness portray
What was meant to be
The variant me
Passing by
Mountain Rain Robbers
David J Walker
Before passing over
This part of the plains
The cumulonimbus fleet
Take a long drink
from the gulf of
Baja California
From El Nino and La Nina ‘s
Playground
Bearing Gifts of rain
The passing clouds gather
But are often robbed in the
Sierra’s along the way
Eyewitnesses all say
The same description
A distraction lost
In the beauty of the Mountains
Thoughtlessly robbing the Rain clouds
Rerouted into shimmering rivers
Taking away the pure waters
That were headed our way
i am an eyewitness to your beauty within
if i could lick you there, then i would be blessed a rich man
flowers grow within the many hairs on my chest with every follicle you kiss
whatever i did right, i must have come from the left hand side
i never thought laughter with you can make me so light and mellow
i guess i have never really given myself a chance to view you away from the dew
what i see for myself is the very foundation of what i want for myself
my shyness is like wires from a downed power line preventing me from reflex and mobility
your eye contact is like a lethal injection in the veins of your pop quiz for my heart
somewhere between uncertainty and a sudden burst of balance i kiss your eager lips
clarity rises above a once cloudy and drab and dreary sky....
a greenhorn now seeing light, i am an eyewitness to your beauty within
The slow, murky, drought-affected river
Snakes its way around meandering shores.
Its surface littered with leaves upriver
Like colorful scales on a constrictor.
Within its gut swim impervious prey
That nourishes it along its lengthy
Journey to the sea. All along the way
Its subtle currents swallow whole, debris
Left in the wake of Octobers fury.
Unmindful Canada geese fly over
The leafy surface honking their carefree
Calls while negotiating their stopover.
Standing high on the bank is I, witness
To this autumn picturesque loveliness.
I wrote only for me.
I made confessions to my soul.
Without dialogue.
I just emptied feelings that overflowed my existence.
Joys and sorrows were fighting for domination
And I was the only eyewitness person.
Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved
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