All Fall Down

A woman dreams of a house of cedar
and glass. The clocks in this house
all strike a different hour. She hangs
her feathered mask on the wall.

A man stands on a crumbling bridge,
looking down at the river and its city
of stones. He moves toward, then away
from a decision.

The woman no longer eats sugar or salt.
She has carefully folded her pleasures
and stored them away in her dome-topped
trunk. The man knows there are unlucky

places, corners where cars collide and business
follows business into failure. The rainforest,
breathing green, creeps toward the clearing
and the red-roofed house.

Comments

[The Heretik]

Vaguely Merwin vibe. Confidence obvious. Everyday language and images>>>>extraordinary feel. Elegaic, haunting.

[yukino]

Sometimes we are owned by our fears.

This is beautiful, SB -- it will stay with me for some time.

[Dick]

None too fussed about comparisons - this is you speaking in your own voice & to - yes, indeed - elegaic & haunting effect. A delight.

[jenni]

Very good. Interesting and somewhat surreal--your poems have this twist of surrealism in them that I really dig.

[Dave]

Very Haines-esque to me. I like it.

[SB]

Do you mean John Haines?! If so, I don't see it -- and have never felt more praised.

[Except when he told me he liked my work: Send it out. Each piece is different. Better than most stuff I see out there.]