Monday, November 23, 2020

Poem: A Ghost Leads Him

 

A Ghost Leads Him

 

this elder he

touches but does not,

this psychopomp

who exists but no,

 

flies through his memory,

its refugees,

till they incandesce

and then collapse.  the past now

a possessed accordion,

 playing a song never composed.

 

this daredevil in his arched veins,

it streaks to push the rollercoaster

to higher fervor and flight.

 

(this EKG wave, this oscilloscope ...)

 

as if mental extremes

are prisoners of a dull conformity.

and only by freeing them

can the jail crumble into blameworthy bricks.

 

(so much of his life was spent between bricks...)

 

bricks, cubes, gravestones,

he buried so much of himself long ago.

but now

 

(but now ...)

 

the ghost offers a tortuous path:

fresh rubble, new steppingstones, 

back upward, 

toward some wounded yet dependable

joy.



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