Monday, March 5, 2012

Monday memory

That plaintive cry, asphodel, that greeny flower, a hotel in Hartford, the seventh floor and when I opened the door, my hair wet the years began. We fell through woods and into a musty theater, the skinny boy in the chicken house screamed and I woke up in the bathtub of a motel, the water falling your arm smooth and hairless, a Cheshire cat smile, the open road, paper-thin letters, onanistic and back to the north, our bed a swaying single boat with oars that rested still

Standing by the well,
wishing for the rain,
Reaching to the clouds,
For nothing else remains.

Drifting in a daze when evening will be done
Try looking through a haze
At an empty house in the cold, cold sun

I will wait until it all goes round,
With you in sight the lost are found.


  1. You just knocked me out. And Richard Manuel singing that song threw me back into another world. Not the same one it took you to, but a powerful memory, nonetheless.

  2. Beautiful. I never knew anything so interesting happened in Hartford! LOL



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