For J.E.M.
I’m not just a name carved in stone.
You may hear when I’m clumsy in the night.
Then and now, more than sepulchral bones,
but I’ll back away at your slightest fright.
I’ll hang like the mist in your yard,
or like sugar in water, sweet but unseen,
and you, you won’t disregard
my story, my life: you know where I’ve been.
I’m not among the dead weeds.
I’m upstairs—can’t you smell my pipe?
I’m not where the flowers went to seed—
I’m here, an orb full of light.
So reach out, take hold! Here, you are safe.
Lonely, but not alone, in a house full of grace.
Original music! Stream or download and name your price, from free to infinity.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
It's haiku time again in creative writing class
Coffee is bitter fuel that brings a sweetness, lifting my spirits. Empty hanging file folders, holding only the hope of less clut...
-
You’re a valiant pine growing from a cleft in a rock. You are an old piano by the beach, sending your notes flying, singing with the gulls a...
-
Serial monogamy sounds like a crime. A felony, at least. Big shout out to all you lurkers.
3 comments:
Little does this house know the words it inspires!
Or does it?
"I’m upstairs—can’t you smell my pipe?"
Whatchu smokin', Dude? ;)
Tony, I'm writing in a "voice." The voice is now saying "None of your business."
Post a Comment