Wednesday, July 14, 2010


Slowing on the shoulder,
After a near-miss jump-start.
Blood pumping and eyes wide
Like jumper cables to the heart.

Eight wheels drawn together,
In a moment, and then it's done.
Of the millions of moments packed into life,
A thousand possibilities, crammed into one.

Ghosts on a see saw,
Two spectres on a ride.
Up and down, over and over,
Into the forefront of my mind.

Two stories on a page,
With a very different end.
One ghost to fade away,
A second ghost to rise again.

Every day's spent moving forward,
And tiptoe-ing on the line.
The scene slows and the car stops,
And everybody's fine.


  1. I truly love this poem. You have captured the thoughts and visions of a near-miss as only a true poet could. Amazing work! :-)

  2. I enjoy this poem as it is written in the present tense, for that half a second over which the narrative takes place. The ambiguity of the slow stricture of the stanzas against the real-time of the scene is palpable in terms of conflict, stress and serenity relative to time: a flash of retrospect.

    Speak Easy