Poetry: The Funnel And The Straw
Posted on | November 27, 2007
he sneers as he stumbles
that crack in the sidewalk keeps getting bigger
he turns his head south to hide the salt
so no one sees the foolhe wonders where his harp is
to lull him out of this obscurity
he’s read it in books, he’s seen it on the television
someone comes in to reveal the sun
the grey day doesn’t have any light
but he knows it’s there. the sun.
it’s just hiding, patient for the clouds to move
god, he wishes he could feel that warmthhe wonders if it’s too early for a drink
an anesthetic to freeze the mind
retarding memory and history and wiping it out for the now
furthering his momentum; proceeding.crying is an ugly business, he thinks
it screws up the face, distorts the mouth, reddens the eyes
blinds you when you need vision
but it frees you from supressionhe stares blankly at the painted walls
the walls he painted to hide the past and show his love
tears come so easily now
they always have though, for himpunctuation, alliteration, forming words
why do they come so readily at these moments?
pouring like water from spigot
and yet here he remains, hoping.
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