from FROM DUST TO DUSK (Sampson – Carroll)


Where I am going,
where dead must go,
there is no shoulder,
no where to moan.

When ended roamin’,
when leaves and flowers
fall in the echo
then I am home.

Now it is snowing.
the city bluer
the wind, it comes again.
A wave goes through.

Oh, there’s a sitting old.
A listed memo, no.
Against the strength to breathe
a hand will turn to go.

A when is no when
a turn is slow.
A yen to leave you,
all knowing.

No treasure.
No place beside the stone.
Another furtive moment
will not arrive.

All calls,
still frozen.
All calls –
all those are gone.
All of them gone.

All of them.
There are no calls.
Buried them.

– Jeff Sampson

from NOCTURNES (Jeff Sampson and Kecap Tuyul)


30 years
30 years is a long, long time
to be living with a memory –
the kind that clutches, goads and stabs
remembers fractured, splattered dreams
haunts the living, loving days.

letting past affairs reside
where they ought to be,
much depends on from where
I acknowledge and view.

let the future come as it will,
and let the past stay the past.

– Jeff Sampson

from CURTAIN OFF THE SCENE (Sampson – Carroll)


there are masters, there are servants –
those without say;
there are quitters, there are doers –
the ones who find a way.
there are bumbershoots and bandersnatch and carriers between
a plynth of might and majesty and places yet unseen.

litter from the sordid past lies languid on the shore
as pleasure domes release the bats and druids walk the moor.

a stretch of cavern walkabouts relives the childhood screams –
playing fodder for the beast that moves within our dreams;
pulling on the shreds of light to curtain off the scene.

– Jeff Sampson

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