Poem

It’s always nice on a dirt road.
Windows down-

As strong wind pushes leaves into song-
pebbles pop and grind.

In the middle of summer the foliage
is think and the sun finds difficulty
making it to the ground.
You drive through streaking moments
of blinding light and back into the
shadows- repeatedly, like a drumbeat.

It’s easy to be lulled into salvation if the
road it long enough and the mountain
deep enough- each bend brings
another world, each world a new beginning.

-at least a new thought, if a new world isn’t
easily accepted. But then again, that’s an
individual mindset- one meant for unending
growth, another for a self-inflicted stockade.

For me though, I crave each curve-

It’s always nice on a dirt road.

-M. Taggart

poem

“Why can you hit so hard?”

How did so much damage happen-

I could see their weak points

Structure is everything

I grew up boxing

I grew up fighting

My cousin, Adam, homeless for
many years, is no longer homeless

-M. Taggart

I love you, Adam. You won’t see this. But it’s here.

Saw a man today

Saw a man today
wheeling a grill
down a crowded street

it was raining
His face was tight

He looked homeless,
but with a grill

I wanted to know his story

The rain picked up.
the line of vehicles too

in my rear view mirror
I watched him push
the grill into the woods

he stumbled at first

I wanted to praise him.
I said a prayer

-M. Taggart

(photo taken by me. same day)