2o15 January 1o, 2o15

 Saturday
Happy New Year readers of my poetry! Sorry it took me a bit to write something new, but it has been a hell of a new year so far. The first poem of 2o15 just for you:

2o15

 

2o15 squats on the windowsill

just like the old man who sat there before him.

Memories, thousands of them

swimming through the barren boughs

of the old trees that are too busy listening

to the gunshots two blocks away

where the drinkers, the sturdy ones

chase all their ghostly memories away

with beer shots and promises to change.

 

There is time, thick, wet barrels full of time

to cast new shadows, younger shadows

to drape the gray halls within the mind.

Sure, a few reruns will find the path back,

will cling to their ghostly selves,

find rebirth no matter the resolution made,

made tonight. And we'll forgive their age

and greet them with open mouth, and dry tongue

and allow them to live at least one more year.

 

One more year of breath we’ll grant them,

those remembrances that fought so hard for life.

rrw o1-o1-15