Very close to home there, Andrew, but it works. I especially like the
turn in the 2nd stanza (though might, being me, shift to
I’m walking
my damaged heart
dog through the trees.
which in no way should you necessarily...).
Doug
On 20-Apr-10, at 6:14 AM, andrew burke wrote:
> My chest clenches
> and I fumble in my pocket
> for the Nitrolingual spray.
>
> I’m walking
> my damaged heart and dog
> through the trees.
>
> You can watch just so much
> television, you can nap
> just so many hours
>
> then you itch
> to do things, simple things
> like stretch your legs
>
> and walk.
> I stand under a tree
> to catch its breath.
>
> A fine mist
> is working its way
> through dank slums
>
> to open the way ahead.
> Zimmy sits at my feet, tongue
> hanging out like
>
> a flag at half mast.
> ‘Come on,’ I say, ‘let’s go.’
>
> --
>
> As usual, all comments welcome.
>
>
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> 'Mother Waits for Father Late' republished available at
> http://www.picaropress.com/
> http://frankshome.org/AndrewBurke.html
>
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
http://www.ualberta.ca/~dbarbour/
Latest books:
Continuations (with Sheila E Murphy)
http://www.uap.ualberta.ca/UAP.asp?LID=41&bookID=664
Wednesdays'
http://abovegroundpress.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-from-aboveground-press_10.html
The secret
I was immediately set upon by two or three
critics, who hurled sophistries and
maledictions at me that were astonishing
in their dimness.
Jorge Luis Borges
|