poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain



I don’t want your story    Don’t tell me your story

I can’t take another story, she said

In a pause he recalled his history

seeing it as a stranger might

Whose stories can you take, he asked?

She thought, sipped her drink

then named three women poets

Their poems keep a distance from their lives

she said      you can connect with a poem

without meeting its whole damn family

I have only so much anguish

Beginnings can be hard to escape, he said

they come for us and will not leave

until they’re through with us

Even a wandering walk, a meander

leads back on itself in our bent universe

It isn’t you walking

And still you gotta put your feet down somewhere 

     she finished for him

You’ve got feet? he exclaimed

She grinned, kicking him under the table

and listened to his story

4 Responses to “Footloose”

  1. Craig Brandis (aka Burl Whitman)

    Lovely. Natural, fluid and real affection. Hard to find these days.

  2. Craig Brandis (aka Burl Whitman)

    Lovely and fluid with real affection for love and language.


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