Dennis Dillon
Hidden Mine
a secret is
the sound of the very quiet approach
of the stealthy predator stalking a rabbit
in the bare fields of Texas.
or the sound of
fireworks exploding on the fourth of July
in the dead of night with an audience of many
and everyone is talking about it
a secret can
be hidden like the mine that has been buried
and is ready to tell all of its presence
in the dark noisy jungle of Vietnam
or it can be
as easy to see
as an albino among African Americans at a horse race
with a determined look, hoping that his bet pays off
a secret can be
as red as blood that covers a field where a battle has just been fought
while a lone soldier walks among the dead in the silence of night
looking for his friend, hoping that he made it out alive
or blue like
the sky up above
with a child looking up at it
wondering about all mysteries
a secret can be
kept like a small orphan
holding on to his father's watch
while he is being adopted
or thrown away
like the important resume of a stressed-out man
who is arguing with his wife in their house and a baby crying
while not paying attention the what he is throwing away
Haunting Memories
a dream can be
opened like a cold coke on a hot summers day
during a family barbecue, with everything normal
until a scream pierces the air because of a surprise
or closed like
a veteran's case of medals
to quiet the haunting memories of war
while in his bed, hoping to finally get sleep
a dream can be
as round as a snowball rolling down a hill
while little kids scream in joy and shock
as it explodes all over them during winter
or sharp like
a knife entering between a man's ribs
as a thief muffles his cries, and steals his valuables
under the darkness of a New York back ally
a dream can be
broken like a vase during an earthquake
while everyone is screaming in panic
in an exhibit in a L.A. museum
or fixed like
a mustang in the shop being repaired
while a mechanic wonders how it got full of bullet holes
and knows not to ask while his face is illuminated by sparks.
treasure your dreams
for when they die
life is a hopeless struggle
that no one can overcome
a poem should be
mysterious like a new kid
who will not talk at school
and keeps showing up with bruises
and silent like
the unheard but very real and frightening argument
with a drunken couple starting to hit each other
in an apartment while a frightened child hides
but most of all
a poem should be
as wordless as the gasp of a women
who sees her husband that was thought dead
and crying as her new husband walks into their house
Unexpected Days
time moves like a shark
underneath the vast blue sea
stopping and waiting for none
but it can be
as still as a peaceful lake
in the middle of a farm
surrounded by nature
time can be
as bright as the smile
of a man's daughter
before his execution
or dark like
the black car going to visit a mother who lives in the middle of nowhere
to tell her the sad news about how her son died, and to try and comfort her
because of carelessness on the government's part, and that they are sorry
time can be
as full as a stadium
packed full for the championship
to see the most interesting game in history
or empty like
the soul of a boy who can't think that it's true
who found out that his girlfriend is cheating
and is crying in the boys bathroom
time can be
lost like the adventurous boy
that has wandered off
and is surrounded by unfamiliar sights
or found like
the lost dog that has been lost for moths
while the owner has been fretting
and he pulls out the reward for the finder
time is a river of unexpected
twists and turns in the thing called life
time is a song that has
uncountable highs and lows
time is a play in which
i am the main character
asking the question
"what will you do with what you're given?"
