Are we there yet?
My Love Is Metaphor
My love is metaphor
wrapped in well-wishes
and calcium deposits instead of bows.
Secreted away in the silver light,
not all is lost in my allegorical cave.
For the brief light shocks
and shadow plays found me wounded,
but luckily not mortal,
at least for another year
of post-tied to boredom
and copper smells.
Maybe there's necessity in imagination
to fold away madness
into linty pockets of cranial crevices,
and second ticks
twitch slowly back and forth.
Someday my simile will arrive
like glory and wreckage
among the untouched and unloved.
Then flight will slumber
beneath my arms
and tilt me moonwise
to the land tied to my chest
where I will slip towards heaven
through slow frozen breath and rain.
Sometimes, for whatever reason, no matter how good our lives should be, we feel lost. All efforts seem aimless, directionless and even pointless. Overall, we feel lessened, and all I really need is a shift in the lighting to make me look at things in a different way. I'm not sure how or when that will happen, but until then, expect more poetry late at night.
My love is metaphor
wrapped in well-wishes
and calcium deposits instead of bows.
Secreted away in the silver light,
not all is lost in my allegorical cave.
For the brief light shocks
and shadow plays found me wounded,
but luckily not mortal,
at least for another year
of post-tied to boredom
and copper smells.
Maybe there's necessity in imagination
to fold away madness
into linty pockets of cranial crevices,
and second ticks
twitch slowly back and forth.
Someday my simile will arrive
like glory and wreckage
among the untouched and unloved.
Then flight will slumber
beneath my arms
and tilt me moonwise
to the land tied to my chest
where I will slip towards heaven
through slow frozen breath and rain.
Sometimes, for whatever reason, no matter how good our lives should be, we feel lost. All efforts seem aimless, directionless and even pointless. Overall, we feel lessened, and all I really need is a shift in the lighting to make me look at things in a different way. I'm not sure how or when that will happen, but until then, expect more poetry late at night.