Voices on the Wind Voices on Aging
Excuse for being permanently delayed by Mark Vogel The winter dark again shocks alert, the alarm sounding expectation cutting through sleep. The old man knows immediately a dog outside chained to night mystery incessantly barks at clouds. On clod feet a gritty skeleton lurches to insistent habitsó a throat clears sludge, a stare decodes the mirror face, a hose sprays ancient urine. Again, a damp aged intimacy smells rich and aware. The winter dark hears in the distance the young argue there is no going back as outside energized traffic already rushes close. Shadows reveal a a weakened morning, where drizzle freezes on stained concrete. A whistling gust shakes resigned bushes, a gritty white grows in strength, promises to make the future fully stiff. Yet inside, a warmed cocoon force-feeds coffee before a shower thaws a crooked smile. With expectations lowered, dreams come of the East, where heat and summer sun rises, bringing barefoot freedom, a leaking exotic language. Already a simple question drives forward like a truckó how to get there, again, even for one instant, how like an innocent child, to fully be.