MARK PHILLIPS

Upon Awaking

When I opened the blinds to the bright fog
That squeezed my watery heart
I tried to write with dry eyes
And found sheetless ink facing me.

Two squirrels played tag between
Cross-street houses, scurrying across
Asphalt thinly washed overnight.

I am empty as the air,
Thick as the fog,
Restless as a squirrel without
A playmate.

I see beauty everywhere,
Roses with headbands of dew,
Newgrain green and waiting the sun.

I see beauty everywhere,
Except in my old heart that
Is lonesome among friends

And dies for wishes unfulfilled.

Fog, break the silence that
Races in rehearsed tales of
Limp stalks in my mind,
Frayed strains of friends too
Old and
Too far.

And let me hold the sunlight
In my hand for a moment or more
While I wait for imperfect memories
To be burned away.

copyright 2003 MARK PHILLIPS

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JEFFREY A. ALFIER

Culminating Point

     The point in time and space when...the
     defender no longer has the ability to
     accomplish his purpose. This can be
     due to factors such as combat power
     remaining, logistic support, weather,
     morale, and fatigue.
         US Army Field Manual 101-5-1, Sept 1997

No, my father.  Despite the proverb, they
do exist in foxholes.  They just bend deep
in the earth and whisper to Death that they
have no souls, and tell themselves they are as
sleepless and homeless as the Son of Man.

copyright JEFFREY A. ALFIER

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