Seconds
All of those places
traveling within you
release one at a time
a magician’s dove
you encourage into the air
So this town square
becomes another place
because of how you see it
The brick streets
rebricking themselves according
to your memory and desire
The eggshell sky
Whatever feeling fills you now
it rushes over
the rocks of your years ago bliss
or longing
You have built up a shore
called your heart
You can cast your wide waters
when you need to see
a familiar place You get used
to the clack of plastic
block on plastic block You
can make them fit
almost and hold it all together
for entire seconds
I have missed reading your words...so glad to know that you are still here, still beautiful, still writing, still so true. xoxoxoox
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading, Chrissy!! We are all still here :). Hope you are so well. xo
Deletethis felt chathartic. Happy holidays!
ReplyDeleteSuch a lovely line this: 'You have built up a shore / called your heart'.
ReplyDeleteThe brick streets
ReplyDeleterebricking themselves according
to your memory and desire . . .
I like the way that prepares for the clacking blocks at the end. And really the whole things's about ways we build, in both rational, material chunks and in magicians' doves, casting our minds--our wills, I suppose--over what we "half-create, half-perceive." (Is that Wordsworth? Coleridge?)
When your line breaks got a little more dramatic, surprising, unconventional toward the end, I realized I'd been subconsciously noticing your line structures and lack of punctuation throughout. I think it all fits together nicely, like water washing over a shore (without semicolons or even commas), or like a skillful (willful) kid with (maybe) Legos.