Mt. Tom (Sept 17, 2005)

Wandering in the remnants of time
the rotting tree trunks
the glacier-strewn rocks

Lost in the aftermath of the past
the decomposing leaves
the cracked basalt boulders

Even the new trees
root
in the bones
of their ancestors


-Jim

Stealing into your Heart (feb 28, 2005)

I wrote poems about love and longing,
I pined,
I schemed about ways to meet you,
planned what I would say
and how I might approach you.

It's all come to nothing so far.


Here's my latest plan:

You won't know me when I'm near,
because I will not notice you,
my eyes will glance over you to someone beyond,
I'll turn away,
look down,
keep walking,
but late at night
I'll return to my secret task:
digging a convoluted tunnel
to your heart,
bit by bit,
with a bent and rusty spoon
I stole from the cafe.

Any day now I'm sure to break through,
and stealthily enter
the chambers of your heart -
on tip-toe,
in socks,
breathing shallowly
and moving slowly.

I don't want to disturb anything,
I just want to see what it's like
to be in there.

Maybe I'd pause for a bit
and watch how you secretly
love the world
when you think no one else is around.

I might take a nap, too,
before I headed out,
because it would be so warm and comfortable.

The only things I'd leave behind
are a few tender kisses
in spots that wouldn't bother you
or disrupt your days,
a soft string guideline
to make finding my way back easier,
and a note
that said

  "Somebody loves you"


-Jim

Desire

Sometimes desire is so simple:

wanting to go walk around
in the fading light.


-JD

More Hobbies of an Unemployed Poet (May 21, 2005)

I guess I'm
collecting feathers
again

And aimless moments.


Wandering in the lost places
again

like the hillside below the abandoned state hospital
and the broad empty lawns of Amherst College.


-Jim

Unknown and Unfinished (July 31, 2001)

I was lost.

Unknown and unfinished,
I sat in the parking lot
while the rain threatened to fall
and finally did.


-Jim

Brief Encounters (Sept 5, 2000)

I saw the fading slogans
  of ever lasting love
    decorating the rusty railroad bridge
      in dare-devil
        spots.

I wondered about
  the people who wrote them,
    10, 15, 20 years ago.

I wondered
  if they still
    remembered.

I thought of you
and I wondered if
    our brief encounters
    were like those slogans,
  thrown up in a momentary abandon,
  left like relics
    for future lovers to find
    and wonder over.



-Jim DuBois