POETRY
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The End of all Roads
by Alan Brewer
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Follow me on these empty roads
reaching into darkness, spreading like spiderwebs of asphalt growing faint with neglect. Headlights bore a hole through the night, silence breathes beside me on the road, every mile another breath throbbing through darkness. Full moon spotlights trees lining the road, scrub pine, aspen, willows and chunks of granite speckled with last traces of snow in the cold spring air. Feel the vibrations of the car over blacktop, gravel and finally dirt as the road winds out into the entropy at the end of all roads. Come to a stop in dead leaves, stripped branches, fallen trees to a place familiar from a dream, nowhere further to go, at last no memory of where I came from. Dead silence fills the night air, breathing the darkness, living in some unseen light like dark matter that fills the universe. We cannot see it. I touch the soft heart of darkness in the midst of a moonlit wood, all movement stopped. There is nowhere else to go. I have finally come home. |
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alan Brewer has lived in San Francisco for 45 years and been an OLLI at SF State member for over a decade. He has a BA from Northwestern University and an MA in Clinical Psychology from John F. Kennedy University. He has had many different jobs, from house painter to alcohol/drug rehab counselor to legal secretary. He has been writing poetry for over 40 years, has written feature articles for The Richmond Review and The Sunset Beacon. For the last 15 years, he has written mostly memoir. He has trekked in Nepal (Annapurna, later Everest), sailed as passenger/crew member on an 18th Century square-rigger in French Polynesia, and has traveled to all continents except Australia and Antarctica.
Other works in this issue:
Poetry The Man of the Always Never Vertical Divider
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