Monday, April 20, 2015
Wednesday, April 01, 2015
Distant Lands of Remembrance
they were cooling the blood in
the river nearby
immersing tattered toes after a
long run so they may
at least feel the rounded stones
with emerald kelp
mantled the road was harsh and
the wind in hush
somehow told the muttered song
for the nasty children
a flock of working bees searching
for the nectar
one buzzed in the curly ginger
hair of Rita
who brought to show me the
wedding earrings of
her mother when I first came in
that neighborhood
then I was catching the butterflies
needling them
in a recycled paper I never knew
they were so
to draw them afterwards with the
pastel crayons
my father bought somewhere in Croatia
when
he merchandised he knew what
she became a sparkling beauty and
disappeared
making me never see her again
even with somebody
else even with my old friends who
perhaps went in
the one I became- old friends that mock our way of
life
today that is far- far more tend
to oblivion- everything
is blurred in distant lands of
remembrance
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