Eternal   By Patrick T. Reardon     Eternal, puzzle us, puzzle us clockwork apart and put us back together, create/re-create, Eternal, cycle us and puzzle us to ourselves, puzzle us revelations long withheld.   Puzzle the lost phone at McDonald’s, a sort of life without electricity touch, eye blink, incense and wet dung, coat buckle clocking wood pew in cave-tall church, taste of broken bread.   Puzzle grubs and snits, moist…

    April 3, 2020   By Patrick T. Reardon   I learned my ABCs long ago and know the dance inside darkness. Better to stumble and bang and crash in shadows than corner-sit waiting for sun. Mournful either way, yet joy in electricity of touch.   I am old, and my bruises are old, scars, deformations, elbow knots, skin tags, out of balance, out of focus, gall in stomach, failures of skill, of act,…

  July 10, 1981   By Patrick T. Reardon       On this porch, on this cool summer day, when the moon is benign in afternoon sky, when birds sing from wire to wire, I have no argument. This may be the milk-and -honey time, the fulcrum, the equator. I may be on my way down or past or into. This will change, and I will change, and the wood of this…