The Lamplight Flickers
enclosed
in the poetry
of making problems
I find
I am still
free I find
some tiles
head first
I find out
nothing
at my hostel
Zampano says
that clearing out the brain
is just essential he has
a lightness I have long
come to see as
German
he is bouncing
a heap of doonas
while we laugh
I lilt the way
back home in my land
of chances find
I don't aspire
to spires
keep walking on
my unpaved ground
and even though
ReplyDeleteone retires one's fires
there's still no prosaic solution
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ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem, dear Kerri. It has a shadow in it, I think.
ReplyDelete