poem

Life gets a bit longer after observing one small thing that perks multiple feelings and senses back into being; a bird flying through the air, in a non-horizontal flight, happens to notice you while feasting in sunlight. Close your eyes, and back again.

-M. Taggart

Poem

I’m outside smoking a cigar and reading Charles Bukowski. I’m drinking a beer but I would much rather have a whiskey. There are chipmunks running on the rocks in the backyard and my kid just striped down and is completely naked. He’s playing in a small pool on the deck. A man handling an excavator was here all day working on our land; we didn’t worry about social distancing. He had his place, we had ours. This pandemic is here and there and everywhere. Let’s play, and be, as long as we can and either we’re fine, or we’re not anymore and the wind couldn’t care less.

poem

You don’t need to
use dense vocabulary
to tell a good story.
I had this dream
about what I should do,
but I didn’t do it.
Hundred bucks to
the painter who best
depicts a dream I had.
It’s that simple.
Tell about the dream,
offer a hundred,
and wait. That’s
all I’m asked to do
and I’ve yet to do it.
And I will pay.

-M. Taggart

 

Poem-

In existence, where we roam
with our eyes closed
after the last hour,
Our separateness becomes
nothing of a divide-
Pronounce your words
if you’re capable.
The 21 remains.
Walk calmly, see clearly,
and notice the false
prophet entered into view,
just below your thumb.

-M. Taggart

poem-

Without guidance,
but blanked instead,
The pushing of the non-
Catch a barrage of sounds,
full of volume, applying
what clear force is needed,
to find the line that leads
the thread waiting for a
clasped hand-

-M. Taggart