Posts Tagged ‘salt’

writing blind

w r i t i n g   b l i n d

what if we cautioned you this poem might leap off the page?
would you add extra milk and eggs to your grocery list?

    what if we left this middle intentionally blank?
    will you grant this grace?
    will you understand?
    will you sympathize, conspire with us?
    just go along for the ride?
    forget what you were doing here anyway?
    perhaps this really is your poem after all
    and you’re just a flinch away from everything
    coming back beyond slight of hand.
    soon you’ll be asking for your favorite pen,
    asking for your old writing hat.
    close your eyes.  go ahead, begin to write.
    this ink might become invisible any moment now!

what if it rained and your umbrella was out of town?
would you remember you came from the sea?

close your eyes.   taste summer salt.

close your eyes.   write my face.

neil reid © july 2011

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Do poems burn?

Do poems burn ?

Words like to keep me awake.
They are not really so polite.

They land from the sky the same way
bison do. Not wise to divert your gaze.

Sometimes they laugh, maybe smirk,
sometimes jump right into the pan,
bringing their own kindling along.

Yet oft only a spoon’s full falls
no matter how much salt I shake.

Sometimes it rains whole words,
but that’s only seasonal whim.

Or campfire days in the wilding woods,
and surely bubbling phrases will arise
if only there’s some birds for broth.

So, do poems burn?
It’s cold this morning. I hope they do.

neil reid © november 2010

Making empty my pockets here. Back from two weeks apart from this one home (a moreover better home away, but not yet to keep). Some say there’s no “excuse for vacationing”, that it’s just another place, not another life. Suppose I agree. But writing is a little fussy for me I have learned; I like my usual chair, my usual routine. Till that arrives new found, here are some few that came along for the ride back with me.

And all mere things here do also sit aside a dear companion in some considered pain yet unresolved. I’ll write, because that’s what I do. It is largely what I have to offer you. Although honestly I’d be as happy or more just to go fetch some milk from the grocery store. Honestly.

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