Transcend
On a sunny afternoon
I can step out for a smoke
And watch a throng of soldiers
Barely younger than myself
Paw a girlie calendar.
Their manner is jovial,
Their lusts are reasonable,
But today I turn away.
Leave my vice in silence
And solitude.
The daylight is pale and sweet
And from the West, a slight breeze
Whispers between the palm fronds.
When I close my eyes and breathe,
I can notice how the air
Smells identical to the
Way it once did in my youth,
Back on the shores of Huron.
And then through all the banter,
I notice the tufts of grass
That grow beneath the barbed wire,
And I transcend.
I can step out for a smoke
And watch a throng of soldiers
Barely younger than myself
Paw a girlie calendar.
Their manner is jovial,
Their lusts are reasonable,
But today I turn away.
Leave my vice in silence
And solitude.
The daylight is pale and sweet
And from the West, a slight breeze
Whispers between the palm fronds.
When I close my eyes and breathe,
I can notice how the air
Smells identical to the
Way it once did in my youth,
Back on the shores of Huron.
And then through all the banter,
I notice the tufts of grass
That grow beneath the barbed wire,
And I transcend.
posted by Milo at 11:48 AM
4 Comments:
That's just lovely, Milo. I like "their lusts are reasonable." Such an evocative phrase. We're thinking of ya over here. Take care.
...ahh...there's the line about the grass under the wire...i knew it was forthcoming...good on ya, Milo...
Beautiful Milo.
I hope you're able to resolve the "the rift between [your] professional and personal identities", So you can continue to write beautiful poetry.
I too had issues with that thin red line and opted to write only on the personal so as not to jeopardize my position and my professional credibility.
When I need to write about my job I do so in a journal notebook, that way I don't keep it inside. If I don't it festers within me producing dark stuff that oozes out much like the fetid open sewers you must come across.
You'll remain in my prayers until you return.
michele
http://lettersfromnyc.mu.nu
Post a Comment
<< Home