They Who Stumble
Blessed are they
who run on ahead,
ignoring the signs,
the warnings in red,
the razor wire
strung out along
imagination’s borders.
They who stumble,
having only one shoe.
Who leap over ditches
and know all directions.
To all those on the lam.
Heavy is their burden
as we run them
into the ground.
Mordant are the plaints
of bloodhounds howling.
The Twelfth Of Never
Soon, they assure us, soon.
When fish will sing
and the flagpole blossoms.
When it rains children
and the mule has foaled.
Gather up your impatience, they say.
Soon all shall be revealed.
When chicken have teeth
and the crawfish whistles.
On the seventh Thursday in November
and snowmen reign in the fires of heaven.
Before The Dawn
A night so dark
mice huddle in terror.
So dark thieves fail
to venture far from home.
The fool cannot say
if his eyes are opened.
Moonless. Starless.
The blind leading the blind
on a grave-dark night.
As dark as a cellar.
As a wolf’s mouth.
The night when darkness fell,
as it continues to fall.
When every fearful thing
stops to listen.
Artist:
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with over 1,500 poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are ‘The So-Called Sonnets (Silenced Press); ‘An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy; (Cawing Crow Press) and ‘Like As If” (Pski’s Porch), Hearsay (The Poet’s Haven).
