Regular Melancholy

There must be something

other than ringtones.

I need freedom with a heavy clapper.

The steeple in my road is silent.

You show me a cathedral with a crown,

tell me about the chimes.

A flat, E flat, A flat, C.  Ascending.

I find the notes on the piano,

imagine the clang of hours.  A clock,

not yet time.  Pick my thumbnail

like a dewclaw.  Crave

a farm bell, a cowbell.  Anything
but this incessant death knell. 

tk/September 2014 

Another elegant read by the dashing R.A.D. Stainforth... 

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Virginia Woolf's Bedroom

It's the blue one at the end of the hall ―
cover it with poppies you bought yourself,
let pollen drop from your hair like wedding rice.

Lie on the child-like bed
under the narrow eyes of portraits.
Let your wasp eyes unhinge, draw honey.

Be made a woman here.

Slip endless stones from your pockets ―
raise the window against the rush of the river.
You prefer men to cauliflowers (and hours).

Let life stand still.



tk/June 2013

Thanks to R.A.D. Stainforth for this excellent read.

Charleston Farmhouse Door 

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