The Left Column

Politics for Poets

Politics Ought to be Civil.

Wake up!

"Let's keep it all in the barnyard, people." -from the song Little Red Rooster as sung by Bobby Weir.

I think I've blogged enough today.

Life goes on.

March 1, 2012

~ OK Now.

She forgets what
she remembers
in ecstatic recollection
of forgeting.
 
      Outside of the heart break that he's been 
       carrying on about, within the broken
     sky that takes his hand and holds it
        aside the sky,
      aside the dream
    what they promised
   but that they couldn't come through
         with
  and all of the graves
    in the rain
 on account of the many wars.

  But the girl
   on the post card
 stays out of the rain
  because of an umbrella.
    A train station.
   It's post-marked 1904
  coast of New Jersey
     a train station
    and the sea shore.

   She walks to the end of the drive way
      and picks up the litter that someone had
         strewn there.
  If a window gets broken
      it's fixed that day.

   Because of the rain
    she hasn't gotten out
    but now she makes herself
  walk down to the corner store
   to buy a newspaper.

  She walks back 
    in the torrents of
      rain
     dark cloud opened up
  on her
    soaked through her rain hood
      and down her back.

     She shivers as she enters
            the house.
    She turns on the shower.

   The post card sits on a shelf
    at the bottom of the stairs
    in a frame
      that her husband made from
                 a fallen tree.
     He made a cross from the wood
              of the same tree.
        It sits on her mantle.

   Inside the heart of love
     where she goes inside herself
   after her hot shower that starts her
                     meditation
      two cups of coffee,
         three cigarettes
         and a double shot of burbon
            (because it's in expensive.)
     she thinks about her husband
      as if he'd gotten on a train
          and he's just far away
     but not so far
        that he won't send a card
     like this one, this antique card
      about someone else's love
     adressed to Miss T. Hayes
              Pittsfield, MA 1904
        "Ocean City was nice but a
             sudden squall made us all go
          running towards the hotel and
         then we had to go and catch a train.
         There was a fire in on of the towns
       on the way and the train had
        to stop. We all got out. Walked around
       the fire was just two blocks over we
      went there to see it my gosh, flames up
     to the sky and giant shadows along the 
     line of trees, the locals standing there
     mouths open trying to figure it out who it
      was that died and a young woman weeping.
     Wish I was back in the Berkshires in stead.
       Train finally arrived late to the terminal.
    Seaside Hotel in the rain. I wish we (flip the card
          over)
     were together instead. XX XX OOOO XXXX
         see you soon sweetie! Love Your Hugs ---"
      A picture of a grand hotel in the sunset
     the Atlantic coastline
      Horizons of antique sailing ships,
          elegant gentle-people promanoding along the 
                     boardwalk
           in the cloud glow of sunset
         chiaro-oscuro
          people in love.
         She's in love.
          The late day sun
      has shattered the storm into ruin
       the empire of rain has collapsed
      and is washing away.
    And in the flood
       the setting sun
        drawing stark-shadows along
           the edges of her memory,
      the sound of the mountain in the evening
     the heartache of not knowing when and if he 
             will come home.
     The sound of feet on the walkway in front of the house
      Special Delivery?
        An honer guard?
     people show up in a hired car.
      They have news.

      she emerges from her trance
       opens her eyes as she turns to the window.
       It's dark out now.
          The street lights show
        glimmers on the side of her automobile
          but she doesn't drive it anymore
      not sense she forgot 
          where she put the keys.