Blog Archive

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


Doors swing, banging along
a hall laden in regimentals'
antique memories groaning
underneath new ideas.
Footsteps camp
among cobwebs freshly
mended, light barred
by dust lifted and drifting
round and round
these pompous rooms
red and dark
like waring hearts.
Laughter died before
echoes could whisk
it into punishing corners,
moping eyes disguised
by classy smiles
that watch as an era
came and went,
a hundred times or more.
Lonely ghosts, betray
lonely saints with
secrets left behind
on the tongues
of folding walls that hide
the depth of this