find me, please

And then we come to the part where

the wind calls out in echoes,

following a certain pelicanic disguise,

feeding on fish and waves,

drowning in subtitles of a foreign language

and listening to a lullaby hoping to remain

wide awake in the face of all of this uncertainty

 

Alone, lost, craving and crying,

distant nuns come running downhill,

circling the city as sentries from another port

sew their sails in criss/cross patterns,

tied tightly in beaded fashion

while the numbers add up, the fingers become sore

and confessions of salaried porters provide the hope

 

Because it matters not which direction the sun rises,

calling the horizon’s bluff, equal too but not taller

than the western most cedar fence post standing sturdy

as long as each blade of grass follows

the shadow of a departing moon and my footprints

leave an impression on the path to your front door,

single file if necessary

 

that is where I will be,

find me,

please

 

 

 

Author's Note

Don't ask me, I'm just the poet

Reviews

[Sel]

Many things have a set order in this world, it sounds like someone is calling, waiting, hoping to be found. Essentially this is like a map. Once again, a great job.

[willweb]

Thanks so much Sel. I appreciate your visit

[Chris Shaw]

Your muse led me to the cinema, where I sat enthralled as all this poetic beauty unfolded before my eyes on the big screen. Wonderful it was too. Thanks will.

Chris

[willweb]

Thanks so much Chris

[D. Mansfield]

Loved it, thank you for this, and for all the good you spread around.

[willweb]

Thanks so much my friend. I appreciate your visit.

[Dave Brown]

not just a mere poet but very much a waterfall of quality poetics

[willweb]

Something like that. : ) Thanks man.