Papers

folded, torn, creased

dusty, yellowed, new

lined, thinned, kept

 

there are words i wouldn't find,

times again, colors that tasted

like everything under your Constellation

 

fingerprint on fingerprint, I leaf

and shred and tape. reprint and

save words. one so secret i forget.

 

the world is full and more pungent

than a bottle of old cologne when

I dream and find those few papers

 

i can't say Tree or Sun or Rain

without looking for your lost face

and others have heard it before

 

the syllables on my tongue are stiff,

the tones i use are borrowed, and

everything behind me is hazy, hazy

 

frozen on the steps, i need a hand in mine

to know when to breathe in and out

when to laugh, dream, and keep

 

those words, Rain is new everytime

Light makes the air Sweet or Bitter

and that poultice still overcomes me

 

tell me which papers to carry, which

words to repeat, which line i found

when i lost all sense of being here

 

now the dark is graying around me

and i have no memories at hand, just

leaves veined with graphite and ink

Reviews

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This is good! As I read it I could picture someone trying to write and the words just don't seem right for what they want to say. Very good!