I carry
stones around
in my hard stomach
Conversations of a deaf
man with one who is blind
Dances choreographed
by a frail paraplegic
for an armless

The stones
simply lie there
in my hard stomach
Piano etudes minus notes
with words that break a heart
Watercolors painted but
on air left in puddles
on wintry streets
under leaves

At night
I feel the stones
in my hard stomach
pressing me down deep
into the darkness that I dream
till unable to await dawn
I rise to the comfort
of the stones that
never sleep


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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