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Monthly Archives: November 2018

A poem that asks not answers

How can we know the past?
By its tailings, lying by the hole?
Do seasons really come again??
Only higher up, burying the one before

Is it worth saving this bit of plastic by filling it with ink?
I could carry it everywhere
and those I left behind would not know
I had ever been there.

Is this the end of lovely?
It is the universal force, and we
wish the stars above were nearer
to overcome it.

Why does the freeway sound rise in the damp
Riding on the vapor all the way to my window?
What is the hissing in my ears?
Either blood, or memories smashing together.

Why do visitors wait for me to come
to a sound I have not heard?
This one I will bring indoors
to last until I die.

 
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Posted by on November 5, 2018 in Arts, Poetry and Music, My poems

 

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