| IN THE DREAM I BURNED IT ALL
In the dream I burned it all,
First the letters never sent,
Then the ones addressed to me.
Next came my poems and stories—
Every paper draft, every final page.
Then came the program files—
Truth, fiction, databases, all—
All melted in the flame.
Then all the leather, raw and finished.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised
To see how well that skin will burn—
Even hide as thick as that.
Only this lazy cognizance remains, and it seems
Too poor a thing to lay much claim to fame.
Or am I merely stating
That I'm starting over,
Standing in a circle,
Like some crazy syphilitic phoenix?
rcs.
3rd draft: 10/19/08 |
I like this so much in an esoteric sort of way.
ReplyDeleteThen the end, though, provides the best punch line.
Good one, Ron. Especially in the first stanza, it has the feel of natural speech. It's hard to make it sound so easy.
ReplyDeleteInteresting.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that the most important characteristic of poetry?
All my readers/commenters are on the mark, I guess. Anyway, sounds good so far.
ReplyDeleteSometimes we find that what we thought of as our good work turns out to be not good enough and we just want to pull a 'tabula rasa' and start over. Or is that just me?
ReplyDeleteThe impulse occurs often, but the effort to truly effect is, fortunately, rare. It creates too much work (or rework).
ReplyDelete