Category Archives: Poem


Another old house
is boarded up,
its wide yard
yawning with weeds

Weeks pass and
a chain-link fence
goes up, a posterboard


The trees come out of the lot,
maybe one preserved
for the tax break,
and the dirt is torn up
as cones direct traffic
around the nuisance
of tractors and trucks

Another new condo
building is formed
from Tyvek sheets and plywood
with plastic sandwiched,
invisible later
(and still nowhere to park)

Tiny rooms get carved out
for the human worker bees
craving their little patch
at the intersection of
up-and-coming and

The future is high density.

  • E Bacon, May 6, 2023

More clearing

My husband has been dead
for a year and almost ten months
as I sift slowly through
his belongings
They are mine to sort, now
I find the love letters
his first wife wrote him
and some notes he wrote her
They sear my hands and
I drop them

I set them aside, for awhile
And then I gather them
up, and wrap them in
They’re safe this way
They sit for a long time

My husband has been dead
for two years, nine months, and two days
the day I carry these notes
in my car
to his ex-wife
and I float above them,
apart from them
They are not mine to carry,
any longer
They never were —
but I am a caretaker,
and I do take care
of those I love.

Wind Sighs Through My Soul

Wind sighs through my soul
that sheds weights of old
In the cold of the earth
is the deepest fire of life
and a diamond is revealed
in the night's raindrop before me.
The sorrow of the trees
is that of the buddha,
always watching these mortals
blow, blow and die without knowing
ever, truly, that all is well...
To forgive for the pain,
that too hurts like a hurricane,
a gale of longing and want
for the plant to grow up sure —
attracted by sun, grounded by dirt
and ever-expanding into air,
somehow a part of the forest
between bricks and mortar floundering
on a roughshod foundation.
May the peace of nature take root
and breathe a future more true.

- May 2012 (unearthed)


A home is the basis
of a turning in the sky
A patch of ground, wet,
reflects the gray above
A person tramps through,
marking space with steps
Another person stops here,
caught up in a thought
A tangle of forms seem
to be separate, apart
yet form the very fabric
of this life, utterly basic
and just another rubric.

- Dec 10, 2019


Some days,
you're stuck behind
the garbage truck.
You just need to plug your nose,
and suck it up.
The windshield wipers
clear the rain,
again and again.
Do you feel the same
itch within your soul?
I see a smiling face
in my mind,
and wonder where I might find
true communion,
endless light.
First, clear out the trash.
Keep moving down the road.

- Jan 22 '20

Spring Poem

Today, spring is hot and thick,
felt on the fingertips like oil
slick between your pads —
And promise blows through trees
drunk on new leaves and green,
green growth that almost glows—

We forget what year it is
and how old our bodies are,
remembering every other spring,
a bounty of birth potential
glimpsed in fluffy bunnies, fuzzy chicks
making us want to gambol & skip…

Flying down the freeway again,
the wind is no less harsh
but my mein is that much more mellow
My face heats and I am awash
in hope for a future more bright.



– April 24, 2013

Meditation on love

love is truth   love is fire   love flames

love leaps   love knows   love tries

love is loss   love gives   love takes   love balances all

love is light and shadow   love is revolution

love is red   love reddens   love blushes, like a maiden

love dances   love sits still   love is partnership

love hurts   love makes you bleed   love makes you live

love is infinite, inexhaustible, renewing, endless

everybody deserves love   love belongs to everybody

love holds   love releases   love never kills

love watches   love waits   love steps forth

love announces   love speaks   love provides

love drips   love moves   love is all

“Tonight”, a poem


I need to feel small
so I look up at the sky
blue-black, with glowing specks
piercing the dark part of me
and I want to feel huge
so I stare out into space
feeling myself connected, suspended
in the living web, the cold vacuum
pierced through by our being
We love in vibration, and kill
ourselves to protect ourselves
Together we’re woven in nets
à la Indra, dancing, dancing,
swaying in the wind like the trees
by E Bacon
Oct 10, 2010