In Which Room Do You
Reside? Are
your walls made of names? Were
there so many hands You
needed several minutes To
realize your clothes were gone? Does it follow you, wandering yellow fields, Across
nations without borders, Alone
in moonlight, racing Through deep space? Are you standing in a city that never
sleeps? Like
a person in a stout wind, Understanding
what the heart cannot, Flush
with dreams, Clear as lightning on your eyelids, Shaken
out of this world, In
a room where you stand up for others, Reconcile
contrasting impulses. 16
January 2010 [Published in The Groundless Ground: Poems 2010-2014. © 2014 by Jim
Cohn.] |
APPEARS IN The Groundless Ground: Poems 2010-2014 |