Saturday, March 19, 2011

Still Inching through a Poem

careworn tenant [and the tenancy of comforts
my southern view affords] wind comes in
through the walls with a buzzing [what little mouse
might live hear high enough to eat the wind]
having given every spadelike piece of every puzzle
out to these ficklehanded dreamers [in despite
the outside chance that not] made every orbit
surrounding the plundered earth [having squandered
every clear idea or recognition] paltry or pastry
[chastised and dispossessed] living in Schenectady
past the age of majority [what awaits the trilling
of spring is whatever has lived through the brunt
of winter] shunted to the side he was left alone
with his thoughts and oughts [n’t to] amid concerts
and a confusion of sounds [crosses and crocuses]
aligning oneself with the supermoon [you might
see your own shadow] whittle the thinnest slice
from the moon to see the brightest flake of light
[the splinter that burns] melting without meaning
melted [a catty night and howling]

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