amid these dahlia
Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. — Epicurus
Today I am shy. I know another
flood is coming. I have been a Noah
and an ark and even high, dry shelter
though I feel tongue-tied amid these dahlia
and rose and pansy. Do not talk dirty
to me, I'll run away. Save your vodka
and your cuttle fish for your wife. Come lay
with me behind this old stump. A new storm
will be here soon; such rage must then descend.
Take my hand. Waters fall and waters rise
but this secret life of mine is a warm
hut for you. You're so bold and dry, my friend;
and not shy, not odd, not a shy oddball.
February 11th, 2007 at 10:05 pm
this is really gorgeous. I’m becoming familiar with your style and flow, and I think this words and images fit well with it. This poem, for a variety reasons, resonates with the day I just had. Plus I’m a sucker for water imagery. . . storms, floods, oceans. . .
February 12th, 2007 at 9:00 am
Hurrah for the ocean and thank you very much, my friend!