A FAR CRY FROM YESTERDAY
Sometimes you have to
walk away
and sometimes there’s
the other thing.
Dreamstuff and cobwebs
may cloud
but you are made of
sterner heartaches.
I met you once in a night
of incense and
singer/songwriters. You
tattooed my name
on your thigh. I tried to
write you a poem.
You left the poem in a
movie theater
and though I took it personally
I imagine some
young usher today, in love,
thinking about words.
¤ ¤ ¤
COREY'S ADVENTURES UNDERGROUND
“One would have fancied that the genii of romance were illuminating their underground palaces to receive the sons of men.”
Jules Verne
The opening was just under my fence
as if a dog had been digging there
though I have no dog.
I took a flashlight and ventured downward,
no rabbit, no carved initials
to guide me.
What I found beneath me, beneath us all all
along, was a chthonic library,
every book ever imagined but previously
unfinished.
I could only stand and stare,
waiting for the gods to come and ask for
my phantasmal library card.
While I waited I sat down with The Last
Tycoon, flipping quickly to the back.
