Monday, May 23, 2011

the antithesis of boyhood rooms

when i was a boy
after the horrible fights
beneath the roof would end
& the house fell silent
sometimes it'd rain
late in the evening
when it was still light outside
& gentle drops came down
as day still held onto its slender brightness
& i'd imagine a room somewhere
a long distance away
one w/ kind walls standing peacefully
at 90 degree angles
& windows tall & flung open
w/never-ending views of green grass
& finally a very high ceiling
yes, there was this abundant space above
but not so much for love but for mercy
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.