Through The Fields Of A Former Life

I search for where I lost myself
In the center of the clutter

My past forms a tight circle
Consisting of tunnels extending

Long in range before total collapse
Against the strain of achievement

Cinematic in tone
Days without color

File beyond the graveyards
Of regret until truth no longer

Supports the weight of wings
And the excursion between echoes

Inform me that the best is behind
But as usual I refuse to listen


Her words are winter
Containing more shadows
Than an old man's memory

Years young
And at best examined
Against a gray background

Approach methodical
Animated with questions
Divided by why and when

Intensions spaced sporadically
Among the eve of important occasions
Altered in range

Adjusted by accusations
And an endless environment
Unaware that sometimes

All stands in silence
Because nothing
Should be said.

Every Waking Moment

Before the sunlight illuminates the windows
She crawls into bed beside me

Behind the roar of my razor
She sings off key with the radio

On my way to work she stands on every corner
In a different dress and matching shoes

At the café she's wedged behind a newspaper
Sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes

After work at the bus stop she hides her eyes
Behind dark glasses her nose with a book

At the bar she laughs with two three-piece suitors
Who pay her compliments and her tab

Beneath a street light in a parked car
She kisses a stranger as I stumble past

Inside my door I drain the bottle
And heave it toward her hitting the wall

Until dawn
Please take my eyes

Jason Kelly Richards was born in Kentucky in a classic year for Chevolets,
raised in North Carolina during the best decade of music and is currently
planning his escape from Florida because the pay sucks and the humidity
is absurd. His work has appeared in Pearl, The Chiron Review and others
including The Ever-Dancing Muse plus online at ThunderSandwich, Red Booth
Review, AntiMuse, PoetsCanvas, 63Channels, Miller's Pond and forthcoming
at The Indite Circle.

© 2006 Underground Voices