Colin James: New Poems
MENTORS OF THE IMPERVIOUS
An old trail opposed
to change.
A gate with the top slat
for comments, “I was just here” etc.
I must have missed you
because the day hadn’t.
Consequently, there is misery in
your circle dotted I’s.
Who takes the time
to cauterize the wood
and burn the careless pistols?
Ah sure, it’s only testosterone
but it’s fading just the same.
RESISTING PROBABILITY
Squandered, fairly innocent
chimes hanging from a tree.
This place has suddenly become quietly profound.
Formally just the jingle of tact,
none of which was particularly happening.
Now an unthematic sound
abides inclusively.