Saturday, March 12, 2011

Writing In That Kitchen

I was shanghaied into reading A Midsummer Night's Dream last night, despite my snarling that it couldn't possibly be as good as a tragedy. Turns out that, despite not being the same as a tragedy, it is still quite good. Hmm. 

Anyway. I seem to be on a bloggy roll, so enjoy (or don't) another fractured poem. Encoded journal entry. Twilight prose. Whatever. 


...


Writing in that kitchen,
Like an already long gone
Year.
In the dark, now sterile room - 
Waves steal in quietly
And wash back.
In
And back.
This room,
That cold basement -
Teenaged weekends.
Life turned a corner.


 

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