It's Another Poem

2/13/11

Staring out windows,

Across dark fields;

Wishing you were chasing

those lights of lost seasons,

memories seeking purpose

among the ghosts of fireflies;

dancing over barbed wire,

back to a lonely railroad in Oregon;

Revelations in the happy feeling

that you can find contentment

among the ink-splattered agenda

of the beautiful, honest, insane angels;

and the clarity of the moment is so startling,

that the only real place

is that dim, blurry corner

of the room

that seems as though it were pulled

half-formed

from your memories;

Watching the fireflies to try

and make up the sound of

Her voice in the lamplight.