A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
In the attic of sentience, a cave, an echo, echoes echoing, angling off an aging structure. Blown in insulation wall pocketed asbestos -- hidden cancer of memories spelunked, relived, regretful adventures beneath beams of a two bed home. Below the roof he sent stalactite nails through 2x4s -- scarred my wandering head. I hauled tarred replacements in brown packages up aluminum rungs at twelve, witnessed handiness as he laid each one down. Shingles hinge to my brain, tear, spin -- nails loosen where I walked from access of the wintering apple, snow drift to lowest limbs. Clambered over soffits, gutters, onto a snowy peak in 30-pounds of gear and dove and dove and dove. White-packed boots and sock froze from melt, could not numb dumb joy. An ice boy thawed by the tv with her steel Currier & Ives sleigh theme tray. Endless canned stock swam in white glass, a sunny fat broth. White caps bobbed, capsized in mugged hot chocolate. The best sleep, and dreams, I would ever have. 4.6.23 48 lines, free verse produced from Zoom writer's group instructional seminar, tonight. What might seem clear are my sentences. What might not be clear is what those sentences attempt to say. I’m a poet following a trail of breadcrumbs back through life and making assumptions where I was diverted. Not clear how to walk it back. So, I write and write and write like the little boy diving from his roof. |