wordless whispers, a
last call for help, in
language of depth-bound ships
calm water belies
the history of lost hopes
and dreams
this too,
shall have been
forgotten
childlike writing
puts questions
where they belong
and each day
has its own
questions
o my fugitive,
my wild, wild
fugitive
forgotten lines
remembered late
remembered
late
remembered
late
last call for help, in
language of depth-bound ships
calm water belies
the history of lost hopes
and dreams
this too,
shall have been
forgotten
childlike writing
puts questions
where they belong
and each day
has its own
questions
o my fugitive,
my wild, wild
fugitive
forgotten lines
remembered late
remembered
late
remembered
late
4 comments:
Last Call is great.
Here I think about the conflict we have with the sea. So many sunk ships and so many calm days. The underneath part of the calm is never featured. I once flew over the Pacific ocean and over the din of the Japanese pop music I was sampling I looked out the window and saw huge lolling waves... very blue... sunlit... I never grasped the meaning of that moment. I was victim to the experience. Later I toured Pearl Harbour (flight to Hawaii) and I boated overtop one of the sunken ships. The history ached to be known even though the event was as fresh as the fuel leaking from the wreckage...
I'm probably missing this completely, but I see a floundering/lost soul grasping at forgotten lines. Like how this flows and the repetitive last lines!!
ryan - thank you very much, it must have been something to visit the Pearl Harbour site, I didn't know it was still leaking fuel but that does make it the more immediate.
pat - yes, that is pretty much it, maybe a result of over-paced learning. This person clearly needs some R&R.
thank you, aurora. I need to put something on magnapoets soon (must call the muse to see what has been happening, and i just got a new cell phone, so maybe that's a start...:)
Post a Comment