Short Condensate Poems

Somewhere there’s a dance floor whispering 

to the cracks of the sidewalk leading up 

to your door. 

It doesn’t remember your name,

but your gentle stride left 

marks on the wrists

of time. 

I’m here,

mopping up the blood,

watching my first drink

of the night condensate

on the bar where

you left your 

warmth.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved....

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Near the belching
condensate tanks
off the interchange,
slinks a mammal
with abnormal need

to find a blind
with water to drink
and flapping fish to eat
instead of concrete.

He sheds a scowl
under the amber glow
of buzzing sodium lamps
until veins gather force
like throbbing tributaries

that course from a source
pure in flexing purpose;
despite how we deprive
he drives to survive....

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Still water crashing apon the shore,
preserving all it drowns.
You can find it nuturing flowers, 
find it rotting trees.
Seek it out in wells so deep,
running down steps so steep.
Evaporate it from stagnate pools in morn,
and condensate it from steam in evening.
For still water baptizes me in hands of John,
and heals me in your hydrotherapy.
And it will entertain in a child's water gun
streaming down from heaven above,
and forgetting hell below.
Oh praise thee still water....

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