May 7, 2012

poem 151 of a poem a day for 2012

ghost writing Geppetto at 4 am

bleeding the quiet is
what I do best
I just keep writing
close to the vest
sometimes I have to
marionette myself
to be the puppeteer

it's not that I am a ghost
it's just I enjoy
the harvest of quiet
cutting strings before Dawn
each word a body
splashed with painted eyes
doll parts that articulate
the movement of limbs reaching
for something that
might not be there in the rise

so I work pushing a thought here
or a thought there that might
resemble a nose for instance
or a pointed hat but with that
comes identifiability for standing pat
without much movement that might constitute
becoming a me, and when sometimes the night
is fed less coal and the Sun
knows the truth of those
like me, we are often cold and alone
we are often reaching for more
of something just out of sight
of something real in the light


1 comment:

  1. One of your best, would love to hear you read it :)