"But first, baby, as you climb and count the stairs (and they total the same), did you, sometime or somewhere, have a different idea?
Is this, baby, what you were born to feel, and do, and be?"

-Kenneth Fearing

Friday, November 18, 2011

Sure It Will Come to Me Later


The litter of our dreams

congests these narrow streets,

makes it hard to get by

without kicking papers around.

We pass through

the blown refuse

and I turn to ask you something

I forget before I find the words

and you want to know what it was-

I meant to say.

Giving my silence a look, as if

I’d committed a crime

and I can only answer,

“I don’t know really-

something, I think-

about time.”

your look turns back

to satisfied,

for now.

-Brent Allard

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