Okay okay, I confess, I haven't a clue about what ive been saying all
along, but, wasn't it exciting though?!
I wrote the following poem today as a result of all our wonderful
discussions.
It's a piece of a longer thing im working on and with much work, i hope to
publish it. (if it has merit)
-----
In the moon-time I could hear the silver bells
chiming
this air thick with expedience
slimy lime and old donuts
these old cupboards surrounded by at least eight walls
the space inside was thick and dense
quieter and more conscious than an empty steel bucket
in the underground cellar (as ashes clung to the corners)
and white light kept painting the little windows
(in some brittle sense, it was all more real than dreaming
the bells kept coming closer, closer to the source of the accident
closer to the sense o what keeps happening in the unseen chambers
the empty rooms and positively vacant windows
where what was supposed to happen evidently fails to appear
for no one there
where views of the street below are continually offered
in exchange for a little order
a little thought that seizes incidence
makes memory
chases potential somewhere else
|