For you beginnings are never endings
Every sunrise only rises, rises
Into the arms of a mild waiting moon
Tears are history, regret a rare realm.
No, this ship, my beautiful bark only
Arrives, it arrives, and arrives, it is
Never swallowed by darkened horizons.
But it is disappearing now and I
Can’t bear it, waiving glad tears on the dock
Is the most painful thing I’ve ever done.
Marc Janssen lives in a house with a wife who likes him and a cat who loathes him. Regardless of that turmoil, his poetry can be found scattered around the world in places like Penumbra, Slant, Cirque Journal, Off the Coast and The Ottawa Arts Journal. Janssen also coordinates the Salem Poetry Project, a weekly reading, the annual Salem Poetry Festival, and is a 2020 nominee for Oregon Poet Laureate.
It was a gray day,
Unrelenting gravel clouds shouldered past Mt. Shasta and filled the sky with its dirty dishwater color when the whistle sounded.
And the mill closed to the shout of the first gobbed flakes slinking down.
Now the rusting bulk of former buildings provide the resting place of discarded beams inside wind battered walls and crumbling roofs only briefly made invisible by the smothering blanket.
On the streets everyone is gone like the jobs before them, and snow has come to salve your wounds.
Marc Janssen is an internationally published poet and poetic activist. His work has appeared haphazardly in printed journals and anthologies such as Off the Coast, Cirque Journal, Penumbra, The Ottawa Arts Review and Manifest West. He also coordinates poetry events in the Willamette Valley of Oregon including the Salem Poetry Project, a weekly reading, and the Salem Poetry Festival.