Short Rebar Poems

I still walk your streets
		for the untended curb,
		the flattened can,
		the half-opened shade.
		I am in the dark,
		unspilled light,
		uninspected.
		I am caught 
		in the city of cautious regard.
		I am not violent
		but I wonder what it would take
		to crack the cement
		and bend the rebar
		to let a man out....

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What I know 
to be true,
the proven facts,
sit like anchored stones
in a wild river. 
Here, my steps
are certain, placed firm 
on a familiar stone.
Other times I tread
with faith, a fashioned,
well worn hope
held together 
with a rebar of reason. 
Both get me across.

But it's the unknown
that sets nothingness itself
below my feet, the path
I mostly tread,
trusting in something
to hold me solid
on sacred ground
that is neither up
nor down 
and I have no need
to cross....

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