Thursday, June 18, 2015

No Room: an old poem given new life

No room at the crowded junctures                         
He was edged out by jumbled heaps
He gathers the stones, only to scatter them
He plants the moss, only squeeze it dry
He haunts the ruins, only to utter a peep and stomp!
The earth turns fitfully, displeased

No room at the midnight inn so
He rummages at the crossroads for stick
He seeks solace in a sliver of moon ray
He stumbles on, aping a sky-god
He doesn’t know, perplexed
By the muted light of sun and moon
And Venus and Mars to hide
With the his brothers on the floor

No room below the cornice
He planed the floorboards too dry
He fitted the plasterboard slantwise
The house comes tottering down!
The stars chant a ditty, a little lament
There are pleased.  Why blame them?

No room in the room he built
He lost his dayglow dream of light
He stutters the words of his time
He edges, like a snail on garden slate
He crawls, leaving a trail of spittle
As the floor drops to no room black

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