Call The Singer Poet Man

On a chair situated near a prime spot for viewing the world spin
someone played a guitar and strum hummed a standard melody
about a yesterday in some backyard that had a tree hung with a
swing and a child glow eyed looking into tomorrow, and then it
shifted like some songs do to a journey on a train, then a plane
and finally it described an astronaut falling, still held by the tiniest
of tethers to a forgone conclusion about something meaningful.

Or possibly it was in another direction that the song took you, one
your own thoughts have wandered – where flimsy ghosts maintained
the vaguest of reflections of streets paved with gold, and in the same
direction, but further over a hill that tricycles glided through windows,
where the fire breathers lit whispers like kindling, where photo albums
in each of your neighbors drawers ignited and burned, and later at a
town meeting, no one could remember the truth of anything.

All of this might pass like a blur, if it had been seen from the car which
was carrying a date to a date, might have made the passenger’s brow
wet or sticky, could have made a finger nervous if it were pointing in
any other direction other than in the direction of its current break with
reality. Once upon a time there was a mechanic who married a white
impression of a dress, but she was not sure if the car she was in was
built to drive so fast, or maintain that sort of speed toward fidelity.

Yes the air was filled with feathers, and songs were still coming out of
the mouth of the crooner, and the chair the singer was in was just an
average chair really, but it could no longer keep its commitments with
gravity, and the lost and burned photos of the neighbors insisted on
recapitulating a semblance with the past, and that’s how this dreamy
little piece of writing found its way to being accomplished without any
censoring, or thoughts of consequence, about the story it was telling…



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3 responses to “Call The Singer Poet Man

  1. Just along the line of my current mood..fantastic poem, I love it! Thanks for sharing.

  2. the more i read you, the more i sense this vague sort of pleading of faith; or perhaps some demand toward the restoration of faith. perhaps.
    Or perhaps you’re only attempting to restore your own faith(s) by way of observation. Either way, your themes reiterate– creatively, consistently; and somehow, optimistically… in a most resigned manner.

  3. SusanneDenner – I am glad I could further that mood…at least I think so. Thanks for the praise…

    Dame – Your comment is one of the more perceptive comments I have ever received about the poet who is writing the poem…

    I am a reformed idealist…who still clings to a most profound hope…even if I do so somewhat distantly.

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