Sunday, October 31, 2010

Spirits and Ghosts, Steam and Vapors

Steam and Vapors


Sometimes I forget

this is my promise land.

I hate spring in Kansas City.

It’s always five am

and the birds are screaming,


The rain is grey--

my dreams are full of storms

I look at the white, faceless air

and I doubt.


In the midst of two or three

It's the mist I can't see,

Not the white shrift floating by,

but a shift in the reason and why--


How to find light for dark sight

or a light load for a heavy one

that’s the real milk I need the most.


Give me a teaspoon of truth

each day, no more, it’s

sticky sweetness to fatten my shadow,

wasting away on a diet of lies.


You know, it’s crowded in here.

There are too many ghosts.


Would everyone who is not me,



Hear me shout!

No more vapors, only me

published in my book Kinlight: Homegrown Poems, 2017


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