standing silent witness like this tree to the endless rape of our sky our lands and seas but I won’t stay silent I will speak out I will cry out over the scream of the bulldozer over the howl of the chain saw over the deafening silence of the impotent[…]
silent witness standing
by J. P. Gallagher © 2000 in the distance peeking over the horizon far off mountains stand and stare back at me they defy the curve of the earth whisper from behind me and all around me secrets of the surface secrets of the center and only the honesty of[…]
I saw you there in Paris in the bistros on All Souls Day with all the other sons sitting in the afternoon sun beside their mothers having a holiday cafe noir with their cher mama and I saw you sitting there beside me too. I saw you there in Paris[…]
Down in the hollow next to the flowing water amid the stand of grey birches we spoke of last hurrahs and balances of excess. The soil so thick and dark could grow anything nourish and bring any possibility to fruition but sometimes the forces raise the river and wash away[…]
The distillation of all the different bits of paper, photos and odd items that had been so important to a life, dwindle down to an afternoon punctuated with questions, memories, tears, laughter and cardboard boxes. Collections from a lifetime are shuffled from box to box, from life to life along[…]
Next to me on the train the lady with her Bible was studiously reading the Word. Working to unlock the wisdom from some 3000 years ago, she plunged from the Bible schoolbook back to the Scripture checking and rechecking the references to peoples and places long ago gone. Faith is[…]
Across the distance I am reaching out to you. With every means, I am calling you. As if directly from my mind to yours I could speak. As if through the granite mountains and the city’s noise you could hear. How often have you listened? Have I ever touched you?[…]
The river running wild leaps its banks, bursting its borders like a wayward child. Escaping, ravaging the roots and soils of fertile fields, it defies the invisible lines of counties, states, and nations, and even the confines of gravity’s unrelenting grip, spouting suddenly skyward then slamming down in the fierce[…]
by James P. Gallagher © 1996 Painting by Fred Danziger The mis-shapened waning moon creeps above the stark marbled names rinsed colorless under the metamorphosizing clouds as the shadows slip and slither around and over each stone. They are not alone. Passing through the graveyard are not only shadows but[…]