| M 的个人资料Aging Hippies, Part III日志列表 |  工具  帮助 |
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9月13日 Recycled*** PoemReformation
If I wrote 95 poems of faith
and nailed them, unsigned,
to your kitchen door
in the middle of the night
would you know right away
that I wrote them and
that they were about you?
Or would you burn them all in cold fear
and never sleep soundly again
wondering if the 459 year-old mad ghost
of Martin Luther was stalking
the streets of America,
the pockets of his flowing robes
full of poems and nails?
cas
(2005)
*** recycled: to extract useful materials from (garbage or waste.)
9月5日 What Next?Ok.
I will admit
that the sense of
urgency
I carry around
relating to you
is my burden.
Fragments of something
left over
from my youth;
wanting it all,
wanting you
right now,
unwilling to wait my turn.
I should know better.
and I do.
Another winter is on the way and
I'm far too old to have summer visions.
I am not immortal these days
or 20 -
not pretty anymore
and don't care to be.
We revolve around
different suns.
Nothing is urgent today
or necessary
except
touching
you.
cas (2007)
9月1日 Bus LadyKnowing you is like
driving this 1978 bus with a brand new
long block engine
from a California machine shop.
You are new. You sparkle.
You are good for another
30 years without worry.
But you live under the hood
of an antique, girl,
in desperate need of major body work,
a modern coat of paint
and some new rims.
Let my wheels fall off.
I will only ask that you push
with all the force you have
for as long and as fast as
you can.
Show me what you are made of.
Outlast me.
Make me look good.
I'm counting on you to do
all that.
cas (2007) |
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