I
think I’m losing a day here
The
furniture is no longer shifting
There’s
no girl to fill the room so completely
The
dust on the windowsill are not particles
For
spasms of the sun to crown perceptions
But
the non-historical texts are cracked
Split
bricks, not for knowledge
But
aphesis
When
you’re balancing on the spines
You
long for the sun o'er
Even
so the yellow moon
Is
way too bright
A little like losing a piece of identity and baffled as to where a search should begin!
ReplyDelete'Even so the yellow moon
ReplyDeleteIs way too bright'
Cuts like a blade, baby. Well done.
You've caused me, again, to think more deeply, to ponder the social and emotional states of the character. I wonder about the quest. I wonder about the impetus for loss. Lots to consider in this brief piece.
ReplyDeleteI like the way this poem moves from one image to another!
ReplyDeleteI like your perspective of sadness and melancholy..specially the last stanza ~
ReplyDeletethat darned bright moon eh?
ReplyDeleteExcellent! so loved the first stanza, and the bright yellow moon!
ReplyDeletehmm.intriguing. kinda takes me back to Lucky's speech in Waiting for Godot.brief but pregnant with so many possibilities!
ReplyDeleteExcellent thoughtful words.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
I love your poetry Matthew. Thank you ... This poem in particular speaks to me on a level that is hard for me to put into words without sounding banal. Every word is necessary, balanced, in its own halo of gracefulness, and all of it speaks as only a poet can speak.
ReplyDeletelike this poem...
ReplyDeletevery thoughtful...