•

moonlight keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night winds stir
mocking final breath of life
lost to the lightless realm
beyond the chill encircling me

no emotion here
save grief

failed digits of a graspless hand
on a broken stair
where ankle bent
and held oranges spilled

no voice came to the futile cry

those lips will not know again
sweet fruit

nor love…

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

•

so many times
I return home from a business trip
swing onto our concrete carport
pause – and key the engine off

all is silent – save the tick and popping
as the engine cools

my favorite moment
just before I open the door
to step out
to approach the house — approach you

this moment of anticipation

knowing you are waiting
bathed and fragrant
warm and soft
dressed in something that will whisper
welcome home my love – I’ve missed you

to take you in my arms
fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close
to wrap ‘round you
drink you in – intoxicated

these moments melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion

we both love when I return

but tonight
I do not key the engine off
I do not reach for the handle
do not open the door

I simply sit

my warm hand encircling
the coolness of the ivory fob
you gifted me with
on our African honeymoon

you are no longer waiting
not in quite sometime
not since you lost your battle brave
not since I held you, that final time
your body still soft and warm

warm as my trembling hand

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

•

my muse is hard to capture
though I do try each day
just goes so fast

I turn around
it’s past me in a blur
leaving little inspiration

each day becomes each night
here I sit in the wee hours
while the sane sleep
steeped in contradiction

thoughts vague
filled with doubt
words tossed about the unyielding page

I start then stop
I write then not
caught mercilessly unclear
in terminal hesitation
in quiet rage

fickle muse – please…
a spark to light this dark
that grips me like a cage

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll and stop

mesmerized

awash in the warm brushstrokes of evening
filtered through this woodland realm
as the waning sun paints the world golden

below me
a pristine ribbon of silver-blue water
marbled saffron
with the bending rays of sunlight
that bow into this magnificent canyon
cut by time and current in the great rock of the earth

transfixed
I marvel at the power
the beauty
at the determination of this mighty river
that sculpts this majestic work

it tumbles in timeless clarity
over boulder and falls
ever onward

in lyric voice
it beckons me to its banks

I come
entranced
stand immersed in its energy
captivated by its duet with the wind
that plays the boughs of the towering pines
singing down the lofty climbs
to gently brush my face
toss my hair
and dance past me round a bend
in perfect harmony

serenaded in this evensong
sunset has melted into moonrise
the waters ripple sterling in soft applause
as the moon sets aglow this splendid concert

my soul aches to join accapela
to be fluent in this song of nature
though I dare not spoil the accord

so I but listen with my heart
spellbound

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________________

• photographs taken near my home in the Cascade Mountain foothills

top photo entitled: “Sunlight on the Clackamas”
bottom photo entitled: “Moon over the Santiam”

_____________________

•

unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now

over and over
repeating in my head
these same strange words
the same chilling voice
over and over

unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now

always the same fevered dream
the fear
the guilt
the regret

I am fallen
paralyzed
unable to lift my head

it’s then I see him
see him coming
slowly out of the mist
coming
always coming

his sour smile
menacing
condemning

I want to rise up
run at him
scream at him
strike at him

run from him
run

but I cannot
I cannot

again that haunting voice

unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now

but what
what does it mean

I’m going
going — I think
going mad
mad

what does it mean

why — charles
it means nothing
and everything

and yes — charles
you are going mad

who
who are you
how do you know my name
why won’t you leave
leave me alone
what do you want!

want?

why – you, charles
tethered to your past
ever captive in this now

• • •

rob kistner © 2010