A slightly different forgotten poem. This one is from December 2014. I found this one while organizing my office and included a horrendous drawing I found with it. Written while in San Francisco, it’s not anything I would submit for publication. I can’t provide insight into the title I gave it, but I’m open to any interpretations others may have.
Ten floors above Mission
Car horns and clanging
Parking garage lights
Dabbling in polluting the sky:
Here I am standing on the ledge
Contemplating perspective –
Fires are not born; they are given
With the perpetuated myths of spontaneous
In the depths of our primitive we wait:
Struck by lightning
Or by flint
We reach back into
Darkness of our memories
Pollute the idealized or traumatic sky
Where past: Plato’s Cave
And I: emerging into the light –
We are our own outsider
As we know it – our identity
Fighting the inner demons in darkness
Before we can escape into the light
Thank you for taking the time to read these today! Have you ever found any of your old writing? What did you think of it? What do you think of this one? I’d love to hear in the comments!
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