A Poem For a Damp Morning on The Edge of June

June around here tends to be gray and damp, and this year seems to be no exception. I woke early today and took a walk in the drizzle. It was good for my creative spirit. I was able to lay hold of some ideas and images that had been alluding me as have most of my word-based endeavors. I have decided to change my schedule and shake up my days a little. Today it seemed to work. Now I must shower and move into my regular life of work and errands and socializing. I leave this poem to mark my place on my internal map. This is the door I came out of into my day.

Entrance Only

layers Overlap, gray dull and black

Derelict alleys,

Sticky with residue of leaking lives

And skeletal corrugation.

NOT AN EXIT, sign on a door closed to the alley,

3 feet up the wall, no steps or platform.

Maybe an exit in?

The price of admission,

all of you.

 

One bit less and you are shut out

In the bland pasty lands

Undercooked, but not raw.

Either way, eminent death

Desire and incomprehensible  visions

Of the apocalypse travel with you

Constantly as the road

Penetrates your shell

      passes through you,

              leaving an exit wound

                                                        always fatal.

 

This entry was posted in file folders and nut shells, internal landscape, mindworks, my life, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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