'in review'

‘In review’                                   timothy r gates, 12/31/2014

In review,

I have no purview,

Only a view.

Knowing,

This is seen

Through eyeglasses, well worn,

A stigmatism, and

An added bi-focal

(who knows how many years, now),

Though I prefer to call this

Vision,

Insight,

Hindsight,

Beauty beheld.

Between births and deaths,

Desired ends and undesired ones,

Predispositions found to be disposed –

I get it,

A review,

Has no purview,

Only a view,

An interpretation of what is thought to have been.

So, I observe.

'They told me, there is no Santa'

'They told me, there is no Santa'       timothy r gates, 12/25/2014



They told me,
when I was nine,
"Timmy, sorry, there is no
Santa."
But I knew better,
we had French toast together.
An infant's bunting,
leprosy knew a friend,
a king's throne
his mother's lap.
shepherds and magi
didn't meet in linear space,
though their stars did align,
opening the eastern gate.
They told me,
when I was a boy,
"Tim, one day you'll understand."
Family, Temples, Business
tempt with single-eyed deference,
"Where your heart is,
there will your treasure
be also."
Left out in the cold,
not wanting to offend,
a sweet kiss cuts through it -
we may not eat French toast,
but bread and wine will do just fine.

I know a many?

'I know a man?'                            timothy r gates, 11/16/2014

I know a man,
whether in this sphere,
or another,
I don't know;
into a third heaven he went,
unspeakable things
unsightly things
unflinchingly no-things.
How this man got there,
better not say
rather turn away
then he didn't stay.
Fallen asleep,
not requiring an awakening
not asking for a prayer
not thinking of thinking.
When this man places his head
upon the evening pillow,
well, he knows sleep's elusiveness,
yet goes back to its bed,
reinterpreting rest, daily.
There's no tool,
fashioning an earthen couch,
not hidden
not beheld
not his to wield.
Then, I awoke.