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Sunday, December 26, 2010

White Christmas

Some years passed
since that first
February flurry;

yet, I still find
novelty in every
fall of snowflake.

They float into place
onto roof tops
and naked branches

and into our hair:
little and white
and nonchalant.

Like children praying
in God's mathematics,
I stick my tongue out.

Eyes closed, I trust
in the intangible
niceness of every taste


Copyright 2010 by T.J. Blackburn

Thursday, December 9, 2010



You said you need
half an hour.

So, I wait for you.


Outside your house,
I watch stars—countless stars—
appear in August sky.
They shine like candles
left on windowsills to guide
the homeward bound.


I assign seconds to distant suns, play connect-the-dots with time
till stars over Snellville: I am here, writing poetry in my head.

I am here.


Are those stars the possibilities never actuated
into reality, pitied by the gods, rescued only to be
cast amongst the light year vastness?


We are Orion chasing the daughters of Atlas!
To pursue those stars
is to explore the subtle meanings
of happiness.

Copyright 2004, 2010 by T. J. Blackburn