Saturday, December 24, 2011

It’s just before Christmas
I search for the right face

not this one, no, not that...
I’ve lost it, or rather
I’ve misplace it

just upon awakening
this morning
torn away from a dream
haunted by memories
of another world,
another life

suppress
suppress
suppress
put on
your brave
face of
happiness

it’s Christmas
and the children
will be home
soon.

posted by Sir James Eric Watkins at 5:34 AM 0 comments

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    And the iguanas dance in the desert/a thousand miles away from this place/and this face: stoned immaculate.

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    "Let us remember . . . that in the end we go to poetry for one reason, so that we might more fully inhabit our lives and the world in which we live them, and that if we more fully inhabit these things, we might be less apt to destroy both." Christian Wiman, Editor of "POETRY" "Hang on to your hopes my friend; That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away, simply pretend that you can build them again." ~ Paul Simon

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