National Poetry Month
Lesley here. It’s national poetry month and I’ve been writing a bit almost daily. No real platform to post poems on. No real point either. For one, these will probably become songs and change with the music. Still cookin.
Here's a poem that is concrete as in recently recorded into a song. It has a bit of a classical feel like something from Literature or a lot of Mal VU tracks. This album we're working on has a lot of exploration--maybe you heard Happiness or Hurricane Irene or one of the other songs--and I wanted something familiar in the mix.
Happy National Poetry month! Your mind is a playground and garden that no one can trample. #nationalpoetrymonth
Gone Is The Day (or, When Night Creeps)
The darkness hones this ceremony.
It’s a routine loosening of surety.
Am I lost or hidden? Cloud-forsaken
Until this furrowed fog abates.
It’s like sleeping off a sickness while the orphaned body waits.
Some nights I’ll stay awake to speculate the shapes
Tune in to the trickery conspiring to be found.
It’s better to be slain than drown.
Like a cut you show as a child: profound.
Gone is the day when night creeps.
So long, day. So long, me.
Sounds become the closer sentience.
The sweeps and crackles of the distance.
Are those footsteps, leaves, or winded innocence?
The pent up night teasing
Me in my useless one-eyed sense of something looming,
To pass by or over or end me.
Breathe now quietly, deep and slowly
Silent as a painted morning.
Gone is the day when night creeps
Night will be day so sleep.
Shaken still in slumber’s movie.
This curious dissection of time:
The big hand dreaming,
Starry seconds trailing over me
And gone is the day. Gone is the week.
So far away when night creeps.
The moon rules then tires half-heartedly.
Dew clings moist on the nervous lip of morning
Before speaking, “Go ahead and wake.
The darkness is lifting.”
Gone is the day you can’t foresee.
Such is the way. Such is me.