LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Poetry |
by Hiram Larew |
TOO BAD Half of what you say Doesnt make sense And the other part leaks So start all over If you want to say something for good Say it out in dusty air So you know its there somehow Say it so you feel it Like toes under blankets Mostly say it without saying it at all So clearly that someone from Two hundred years ago Will look up and wave. NOPE You should be here just before you get here When cups are still put up And the soap is dry on top When all of what Im thinking is half magic Half a sort of danger And hot water suddenly feels like a gift When birds out front dont have any idea of whats coming But want to And the sky from here to there Or even the edge of the world For once matters deeply. Ive always had a need for these kind of edges For something that tries to make what is from what isnt Like people who dont know fear Or like pink by green Or like logs stacked up in woods Ive always needed these kind of thin lines To make me decide Ive decided that Something has to happen It has to With everything this ready and Wobbly Here in the hallway thats like you Either the world has to make good and come clean Or mines going to sit down for good. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 8, No. 15, November 20, 1998. |