Placement

looking
through those old photos
slices of frozen time
a thought visited
like an unexpected guest

the years insult
with changes that are
mostly unwelcome
and lately
the ancient eyes
in the pictures
are beginning to resemble
my own



Just a Few Beats Behind

the mirror was not magic
nor did it speak
still
it told him
all he needed to know
about where he'd been
and would most likely
wind up

his face read like a map
of travels with Charlie
or out on the road
with Kerouac
furrows and crags
deeply set
the footholds of time

he was frugal with it now
having learned
more than he wanted
about how it abandons ship
just when you begin
to understand
a few things



Regrets

the words flutter
like red flags
passing into the night air
they
should have been crushed
stamped out
like used a cigarette butt
that has first burned a hole
in the carpet

laments come
too late for proper introduction
while "shouldn't haves"
escape like bees
a swarm from  the hive



Where Flowers Grow

there are those
who lie in fields
of vast reverie where
no markers proclaim
their former existence
and the mourners
gave up the vigil
long ago
having since
turned other corners



Nothing Gets You

anywhere in this life
he said to me
i had it all
enough money to get by
a family
i worked damned hard
and it got me nowhere

what's left
isn't  worth a damn
i'll die same as the
meanest bastard
you'll ever meet

but, i said
you will be missed
and there are people
who will mourn you

yeah
big consolation
he laughed



Just to Keep Going

keep trying just
keep trying
I always do
no matter how many
anvils get dropped on me
or how many times
I stub my toes on
blatant reality
my mantra remains
the same
got to go on
and keep it up
for someone's sake though
I'm not sure whose anymore
the wolves in the night
chase me down
like a rabbit to a hole
I've burrowed into
the dirt
Like a grave awaiting
my many mistakes
I keep trying
forgiving the chase
in momentary amnesia
looking for the
approval of night
in my blindness
I burrow and wait
for another chance
to keep going
maybe try harder
                       


Bess Kemp is a transplanted New Englander, now living in the Napa Valley, California.  Her poetry is featured in current or forth-coming issues of Perimeter, San Francisco Salvo, Papyrus, Gray Matter Tapestry, Mind Fire Poetry Journal, Moria and The Poetry Repair Shop amongst others.  She is the editor of two on-line poetry journals, Some Words: A Place for Poetry, and The Anville Family Tree.



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