The finding of a namesake

Trains of Thought:
A Word Game 19/11/07

My hands are wringing,
are forming rings
like the underside of eyelids, or impatient fingers
tracing tabletops with their things

The chair took a beating
as I sat down too hard,
I was down
I was beaten
by my brethren
and their heavy even breathing

I was beneath the weather,
beneath the ether,
n/either here or there
n/or someplace nearer

Getting over the moon
was the hardest to do;
running in celestial circles,
I was heavy with heaven,
I was wishing
in my own milky way
of lying down with my boy in a spoon

Under the thunder
and beside the lightning,
I took to it all like a flash in the pan
I stretched my arms to the atmos,
pushed my thighs to the sky,
I was trying my utmost
not to sink into things
with my clumsy unthinking upended appendages
and this forceful unflinching flinging of limbs

My eyes clouded over,
the fault line not with me,
the mortar ‘round me crumbled
as did my own
too soon flown
-ality.

The ringing in my years
soon stopped;
I outgrew my sun-spot

the rain was dying off,
we were drying off and
it was the mind that I heard winding down
as at last the moon went down
on me.




July 2007.