Archive for April 3, 1993

the wind left my door open
and in came the rain,
in came the rain;
he blurred my pictures of you
by dulling my pain.
and like Spandau Ballet: it’s true
that the wind left and
left my door ajar
and I never thought I’d go as far
to forget instead of coping.

Untitled Poem #157

Posted: April 3, 1993 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

a car travelling with my soul
in the passenger’s seat: this is time
and I watch fields of wheat breathe,
amber waves of grain…

an organ plays melancholy from a building
and people pass, they do not hear,
too busy looking down when I have stopped
to listen for the sound of the wind:
echoes and ghostlike spirits of memories.

I cannot explain the music I hear,
be it cacophony or pure, ringing clear,
perhaps the different drum I march to.