The Right Column
Heart Thaws

Breeze of Sensibillity
  Draft poems
   were blowing up a cold storm,
  trying to put the dark cool nighttime
    of passion into words
 so that even I can know this truth
    though sad and alone and out of work.

  there was a large draft
     in the room which blew
   those old sheets off of the edge of the desk,
    the books fallen to the floor, scattered pens
      rolling towards the wall
        at the edge of the carpet,
    books lay open, the pages folded and crumbled,
      as if for recyling
        or for heating the apartment -
       hate to have to do that.

   What word does one need to say?
    Get out the thesorous and look for synonyms?
    How did the heart break of past years instill
    a wisdom of tempered optimism?

  Ah, but the heart wants what she wants.
   damn caution, you rational moron,
  love is better than scientific explainings.
    How can any more heart ache 
    ever come this way except through
      separation, an illusion? 
     when
   the truth is true.
   The truth, that kind of truth,
     is always true.  And
      for those who care
    they always knew it in their hearts
      how the pain does end and the feeling starts.


April 27, 2010