A Poem by Rick Hartwell

Entombed

The allusive illusion of youth:

All too brief and ill-spent too soon.

Surrounded by a universe of death,

The scaley synapses of years,

Each one connected to the next,

Act as tumblers to the vault of your life.

 

 

 

Rick Hartwell is a retired middle school (remember, the hormonially-challenged?) English teacher living in Moreno Valley, California, with his wife of thirty-six years (poor soul, her, not him), their disabled daughter, one of their sons and his ex-wife and their two children, and eleven cats. Yes, eleven! He believes in the succinct, that the small becomes large; and, like the Transcendentalists and William Blake, that the instant contains eternity. Given his “druthers,” if he’s not writing poetry, Rick would rather still be tailing plywood in a mill in Oregon.