Edgar Allan Poe image credit Google store -------------------------------------------------------------------------- In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding. What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star?
image credit gallerypress
Wind from the east is a banshee wailing
at the door, from the west a howling chimney.
The worst nights, the car is tense as a cat.
The two of us are there at the center
of force nines shaking the gate and rattling
the loose slates of our insistence:
we have made the right choice. Hours of telly,
journals entries, phone calls from outside
pass our time in the light house with a query
(even as the whitethorns I planted knuckle
down and shy away from standing straight).
How many winters before our hears are
twisted? And the wind answers: by the time
you know that, it will already be too late.
Ocean, don’t be afraid.
The end of the road is so far ahead
it is already behind us.
Don’t worry. Your father is only your father
until one of you forgets. Like how the spine
won’t remember its wings
no matter how many times our knees
kiss the pavement. Ocean,
are you listening? The most beautiful part
of your body is wherever
your mother’s shadow falls.
Here’s the house with childhood
whittled down to a single red trip wire.
Don’t worry. Just call it horizon
& you’ll never reach it.
Here is today. Jump. I promise it’s not
a lifeboat. Here is the man
whose arms are wide enough to gather
your leaving & here is the moment,
just after the lights go out, when you can still see,
the faint torch between his legs.
How you use it again & again
to find your own hands.
You asked for a second chance
& are given a mouth to empty out of.
Don’t be afraid, the gunfire
is only the sound of people
trying to live a little longer
& failing. Ocean, Ocean—
get up . The most beautiful part of your body
is where it’s headed.& remember,
loneliness is still time spent
with the words. Here’s
the room with everyone in it.
Your dead friends passing
through you like wind
through a wind chime. Here’s a desk
with the gimp leg & a brick
to make it last. Yes, here’s a room
so warm & blood-close,
i swear, you will wake—
& mistake these walls