Monday, May 3, 2010

wind

it whisks all things away
just like Charlie Chaplin's hat-
Everything but my solid resolution
to go Nowhere and be Nothing.

even the heavy wooden Door
isn't immune-
it bangs in Warning;
distant drums of ancient warriors.

it violates Marilyn
just in time for the cameras;
it waltzes with the weathervane
and conducts a cataclysmic wind chime Chorus.

it howls in Agony-
or perhaps just to frighten
the small girl afraid of Ghosts;
the young woman afraid of open Doors.

1 comment:

Shea said...

remember when you used to write a poem a day? This is a selfish request, but please do it again!

Carry

I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins


that's all, folks

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