WATCHING THEM PASS THROUGH.

I once had a fellow living across the street from me that was different. Living in the same house for 30 years in a transient (at best) neighborhood I have seen them come and go. Some very nice people and some moonhowlers.

This particular young man was exactly as described below. He was off, way off when he was moved in and abandoned. Not only was he a yeller at the moon and constantly in a state of war he had a love for machetes. There was a sick old birch tree in his front yard that he chopped at with his blade until enough of the rotted trunk was removed he could push it over. I remember the great howl as it toppled and his standing on it like he had just conquered a wild land.

One day they came for him, took him away, and when he returned he was gone. No more a descendant of the wildness.

That was ten years ago-- Most of them in transit around here never really stay long Enough to see their true evolution. I wish him well if he still lives.

DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT SHADOW OF MADNESS

It is, as is proper, that all of us are dressed in black,

light skin surrounded in pitch and ash.

Funeral views should be shown some respect

as we mourn mostly without the color of fear.

Though Mars was wearing a red tie warning us away.

The rest of us just wore blackto better blend in

with moon made shadows.

I don’t know why he left his house at 4 in the morning,

but leave he did and I standing in the shadow

don’t understand the ghosts of the night that haunt him.

Every night.

When inside he lets his presence be known through the brick walls.

When he leaves making certain the latch catches

his furious inability to communicateis locked. 

Sealed against sanity that may not enter

I don’t know which demon had him but the rest of us, 

night beings at home in madness and darkness,

watched as he yelled murder at me watching from shadow.

I listened quietly continuing our dance of daring the madness enter.

Yet staying silent as is respectful when one looks

on at whatever it is, what once was a man

now lying in tumult in a coffin not yet built.

Just another piece of snot flung from the finger of a family

that can no longer care ‘less they wind up poorer,

less rich in the daylight that colors the darkness where they live.

We here left behind are tinged with the hues of  black suit

and rants of death and the destruction about to happen.

I am pleased I chose the right clothes for the occasion

regardless of what the box being made is going to hold.

© M Durfee

11-15-10

6:15AM and he leaves his house again making sure the door is latched

the clouds have come and covered the viewers and mourners 

the conversation is no longer laced with murder and motherfucker

I know he sees me with eyes at last and he asks "what's up"

I take a long pull from my cigarette look to the cloud covered sky 

where the family flung us both away and answer "apparently just you and me."