 |
photo
by Keith Spencer
©
|
a
fine tree covered tarmac told me to take the last train to the middle of
nowhere
muttered,
mattered
tearing,
tattered
Edward,
you always
hide
your intentions
your
flights of fancy
and
disregard
you
wear humanity
too
close to the sleeve
no
one believes you
can
be that lazy
doesn't
everyone
know
me by now
I
say I have no faith
this
world is unfit for human life
every
way we view ourselves
is
particle fiction
a
felt fiber rubbed revelation
clouds
are giving directions
culling
information and disinformation
killing
dissertations with
a
shroud temple oligarchy
in
profit we trust
is
the dis-assembly line of any nation
it
is our dug knees, pleasing
the
world’s chase
of
a paper dollar dream
she
was school-marm charm
I
was boarding house drifter
a
take-me-in refugee
her
eyes said see if he can swim, first
I
see monsters here. ma'am
at
night when I turn off the lights
I
see your daughter slaying dragons
is
she a changeling, I ask
does
she remember things
even
the very old things
right
down to their
atomic
level design platform
well,
school-marm says, in nodding gleam
her
stuffed animals are portal trigger points
and
though she is twenty something years old
she
has kept them painted to a child-like perspective
this
disarms the observer, sir
I
guess she figures some things are supposed
to
be so familiar to us that they transcend our senses
some
things are not meant to be remembered so much
as
felt in the emotional alchemy that leaves our body
when
we weave lifetimes into spaces
of
time and memory
I think what my daughter remembers
is that we actually become a living fabric
between
the scents and raptures
of
all the things we’ve encountered
along
the way to where we are
right
now
some of us
will always wait
some
of us
will always wade
and yes there are
some of us
always willing
to
take a walk
on
the road
less
traveled
shall
we, sir
your fire
needs tending
EJR
©
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