dressing
i still wear the same clothes
i wore a few years ago
when i saw you
it was apparent again this morning
when i put on my brown suede shoes
and the thriftstore shirt
with the neat pattern i don't do this
deliberately these are my clothes
my favorites, and they don't wear down
easily even when the light around me
disappears or is torn apart
it's not a sentimental act
it's not an act at all
these are my favorites
though i'll admit for some reason
remembering when i asked you
dark or light?
one night before we went out
(meaning clothes)
knowing you'd say light
probably anyway
i remembered this morning
as i slipped into a brown shoe
imagined spicy food and a slow grind
imagined you'd said dark
what i imagined
some twisted metaphor
for the light we always seemed
to be moving into
i wore a few years ago
when i saw you
it was apparent again this morning
when i put on my brown suede shoes
and the thriftstore shirt
with the neat pattern i don't do this
deliberately these are my clothes
my favorites, and they don't wear down
easily even when the light around me
disappears or is torn apart
it's not a sentimental act
it's not an act at all
these are my favorites
though i'll admit for some reason
remembering when i asked you
dark or light?
one night before we went out
(meaning clothes)
knowing you'd say light
probably anyway
i remembered this morning
as i slipped into a brown shoe
imagined spicy food and a slow grind
imagined you'd said dark
what i imagined
some twisted metaphor
for the light we always seemed
to be moving into
posted by johnee at 7:39 AM
7 Comments:
I like this, john. Struck a chord.
to my windy accordian
a love like yours is born
in cherry and wheat
in an ashborn volcano
that might burst out one
side or the other where
could we run or should we lie
on earth feeling her
trembles while we bake
on black sand
groove to the thump
of land crabs whereever
I’ll collect your bee-bitten kisses
take the path starry-eyed
and blue
just a terrific poem, john.
sorry. the anon is me. jim
thanks, pris, i'm glad there was a connect.
peej, on the subject of music, Captain Beefheart once remarked that he could do no better music than to stick a harmonica out the window of a fast car, and let the wind play it. ever try it? k,j.
hi jim, from the heart and nearly totally biographical in the then and the now of my little life. thanks. i thought that wuz you.
anonanon
1. good poems
2. pj is in love with you :)
john e
that was nice! & pjs 2
hi pj
~~~~~~~~
o hell john no muses today...
bye you two
i'm in a yeats or mary oliver frame o mind but nothin from nothin leaves nothin
hey X is going back on the road as the knitters & j--eraserhead, o my god!
that's kafka-esque for you!
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