Friday, November 25, 2011

Stream of Concientiousness


In addition to this public and my private journal I also keep what I call a poetry journal. Not that what I write is any good as poetry, it's just a place where I can express my thoughts without the need of a narrative thread. I experimented with the format here for a bit. It didn't work out. There's usually an image or two in an entry that I like, but the whole breaks down, and if I get political then the results are just silly. Every once in awhile a little gem emerges so, without trying to win any literary prizes I may share them with you. Here's one from a couple of days ago that I kind of like:

Sure, I'll remember, like
I remember the way
to an abandoned factory where
all the machines are silent.
It was easy to follow the grade of the
old road untill the wash out.
Leaves blow through the broken windows.
But I do remember, I remember
the barn swallows cavorting in
the dim heights,
I just can't picture you there anymore.

The coffee filters are almost gone again,
can that many mornings have passed already?

No comments:

Post a Comment