Buck Nelligan

Buck Nelligan

On the pages
of this short life
we leave our lines
     some reasoned
     some random
     a few neurotic
A chaotic triptych
none but God
can decipher

Like graffiti
on a cell wall
we leave our marks
     counted days
     confessed sins
     curious icons
Hand`prints in time
of progress made
toward death

On the floor
wax drops reveal
candles consumed
     some in folly
     some in fear
     some in faith
in whose fragile light
we pushed the stylus
of our souls


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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