You’ve been thinking of yourself a lot.
I want you to think of yourself. Imagine
yourself any way you want, it’s ok.
You may give yourself brown eyes, which
I know you like. Give yourself the dark
or the red hair; I know you like them both.
But leave your voice the same, that’s for me.
You’ve been too tired lately; sit here,
let me close your eyes. If you fall
asleep, dream of me. Dream of me
from a thousand angles. I’m your
reflection in the dew on the leaves.
I watch you with thousands of eyes.
Don’t think lightly of me. I’ll go
through death with you and on
to whatever you find when it ends.
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2006
(144)
-
▼
April
(29)
- Poem
- The Man in Your Garden
- Giving up T.V.
- Jaw
- Habit
- The Coffeeshop's Last Week
- Lost Things
- Driving Tired at Night
- Ecdysis
- Work Routine
- The Imagination of Fathers
- Ugly Days
- ...But the Rent's Low
- Poems That Fail
- Creation
- Hometown
- Acceptance
- Losing the National Debate--A Consolation
- Responsibility
- One Man Down
- Influence
- The Workers Wait Out the Tornado
- Violence of Mind
- Love Note to Me, from Me
- Arguments at Work
- Morning, Early Spring
- Night
- Weather Change
- Routine
-
▼
April
(29)
3 comments:
what happened to NOT writing about ourselves...i like this one!
made me think of my father when my mother died. Saw a caring gentle side of him never knew was there. Very good Eric!!
This is actually a technique I use to purge a bad habit from my writing; I write a poem that indulges in that habit with impunity.
Years ago I did this with the world "soul." I was tired of seeing it in my poems, so I wrote a short poem that used the word a dozen times. I felt a lot better. I do use the word soul, but not obsessively as I did then.
Thanks for keeping me on my toes, Am..., er, I mean anonymous.
Post a Comment