Usually
I call to speak of nothing
Just call
Sometimes I think I'm moving boulders
Sometimes just throwing stones
We laugh at the cracks
In the rocks
In my hands
And what spills out surprises us both
Banners
Flailing atop thinking towers
Some blood red
Some ghostly white
Others just grey
Invisible
Unraveling and blathering, endlessly
Into the child night
I call to speak of nothing
Just call
I call to hear her listen
And so I can listen too
copyright tom ewing 2008
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3 comments:
Sorry Chick
here are some other scrapes at the bottom of the page.
We live inside these moments
Castles made of cards
Till words come spilling out
And tear it all apart
And we wind up spinning pinwheels
When we wish to move the stars
I stole the last two lines for Dad's poem. I love you.
t
I like this one too, especially the end of the first stanza.
Hey, I'm still hoping to hear back from you about New Hope. I'll be starting work on it in a few days. You can call me whenever, I'm usually around to answer my cell; and I'm usually around the house too. Talk to you soon!
AJ
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I've always liked this one, although it's been quite a while since I've heard/read it and I don't know that I ever really appreciated it until now . . .
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