Monday, October 08, 2018

Safety Net



My cat, Francois
 is frightened too,
but she relies on me
so far, to fill
the plastic food dish
and bring her water
twice a day.
You can tell because she
rubs my leg in passing.
 I look at the world
I can barely hold onto
with the uncertainty of breath,
plunging into bed at eleven,
into the safety of dreams.

Thursday, October 04, 2018

What You'd Think

There would be
a history
for the old men,
but, the history stops
while the skin
is still tight
and the movies
can still be made.

Tuesday, October 02, 2018

New Kindle Book: The Retrospective


"Until I Got to New York"
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07HYF7WVC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1538535025&sr=1-1&keywords=don+schaeffer

Friday, September 28, 2018

An Appreciation of the Cast


Who protects
the paying customer?
They love us
in the dreams
of theater
as we use
what they give us.
.
We are masses
who sit in the dark
or stroll
through their
halls of excitement
disconnected from
the life
beyond the cardboard.
.
We speak
in monotone only
with our hands.
They go
backstage
with real conversation
to delude us.
.
We have these
everywhere,
the inside
and the out
with stages
and curtains
and plexiglass
between.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Hidden Kingdom


A dream speaks
there is nothing
written down
.
no contract
no revelation to friends.
Dreams are cut off 
from us, hidden,
like Eden, like childhood.
.
If you must
describe the nation of
dreams you have no
access to maps.
Even songs,
even allegory
fail.

Friday, September 21, 2018

Missing the Parade Dream




I dream wrote this thing
about how we walked
together and sent it
into the jungle
of tangled voices.
The dream created
solitude when no one
in the vast
world of hearts replied.
Today my dream could
hear the song
in chorus.
With joy.
I learned, surprised,
that I walk
the wrong way.

Friday, September 14, 2018

The Annoyance


6:44 AM (15 hours ago)
Reply

I cling to love
chase it down the hallway
as it
tries to run away.

When I feel
even the distant chance
of love
I spin into words
hungry, building dreams.

Ăˆven when it
lives in a body that's
fading, I won't
let it alone,
I ignore its will.

The world, the cold,
The world of cold
won't let me make
a quiet poem of it.