this porcelain boy would not breath
nor dance nor sing
and though
his steps
are feathers
on air
at least
he steps
at
all.
Never having known you
would mean
shelving his china
limbs
to collect
dust.
Dimming his painted
eyes
dull and lifeless
staring out
at world
waltzing on.
One must
never manufacture
reasons
for
springing
into existence.
It is within each
tiny
secret porcelain
heart
and
never to be
sought outside ourselves;
but lies
like these
like
fallen leaves
can only keep
their flight
so long.
Even heartfelt
too practical not to be real
Lies are Lies are Lies
and we all know their ilk
by the way they make us feel
hollow
inside.
Our happy thought
is
seldom
so selfish.
The one that moves
brittle ceramic
limbs
however gently
however feebly
to
whom
or
what
ever
it
was
that brought them
from the shelf
is
rarely rational.
And
Had I never known you
but only just wanted
to consume.
Only needed
the dream of.
Only wished for
in roiling
sheets
while sleep
waited impatient.
Only burned for
in secret mind
that conscious abated.
Only pressed upon once
and retreated
deflated
but no
to know
to have known
you.
To have seen
your chips and cracks
and wilted paint
you wear like all of us
and still be sure it was the only
light in the darkest of winters.
It made me move.
It made me live.
In the end it was worth
the scratches
the breaks
and
even this fracture
deep down
my frame.
Or rather to say
you
were
so
unquestionably
worth
it.
Posts
2 comments:
OK, you are in trouble: you clearly love to write, love language and love playing with concepts and how they create realities... My guess is you are circling topics that may one day lead you to what you MUST say because no one else will ever be able to say it but you--that is, there is a Caleb-centric universe that may one day manifest itself. But you haven't committed (maybe wisely so), so the poetry is easier for you, more inventive and more impactful than the narrative. The thread to that unique message/idea/life is in the feeling: a certain rebelliousness and "epater le bourgeois" zeal that hides innocence and appreciation for the world...something like that. My guess, anyway. I'll tell you this: you've got desire, my friend!
You are the first person, who doesn't know me, to ever comment here. For that alone I could hardly thank you enough. Your comments are insightful and startlingly on target. Thank you.
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