Short Reattach Poems

I see the fingernails of a nine-year-old boy
at the end of my hands
They make me laugh.
How did he get them away from me?
And how did he reattach them?...

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Into the phantom darkness
My soul flew ahead
Paving the way for my flesh self
Who had no choice
But to reattach my shadow
And retrieve my
Darling darling soul...

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Is there a thread that binds and ties,
  an artist to his art

Is it thin or thickly woven,
  does it hold or come apart

Is it there to free or wear one down,
  with the memory of its form

Does its very nature reattach,
  when in fury it is torn

Does it link in stark remembrance,
  all that’s past and gone away

Does it keep the truth within arms reach,
—when again we’ve lost our way

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)...

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Is there a thread that binds and ties…
  an artist to his art

Is it thin or thickly woven,
  will it hold or come apart

Is it there to free or strap one down,
  with the memory of its form

Does its very nature reattach,
  when in fury it is torn

Does it link in stark remembrance,
  all that’s past and gone away

Does it keep the truth within arms reach
  —when again we’ve lost our way

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)...

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Is there a thread that binds and ties…
an artist to his soul

Does it thin or thickly mend,
to come apart or tightly hold

Is it there to patch the deepest tear,
with the essence of its form

Does its very nature reattach,
when in fury it is torn

Will it stitch a quilt of memories,
from a past that’s ripped and frayed

Can it hem the truth within arms reach
—when again we’ve lost our way

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)...

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