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    « Dali’s Clock, Schrodinger's Cat, and a Pair of Dice | Main | What makes me happy is nothing real in a real sense »
    Thursday
    18Feb2010

    Bones in the Closet

    Creak.
    
    Memory ossified-
    a relentless pursuit
    of decalcification
    pries a door wide.
    
    Behind no-cheat couture
    and lovers’ ash (urned),
    present-Past
    clamors for attention.
    
    Shake-rattle shimmy
    role of thought drags
    reluctant ego
    on to a paper stage.
    
    Bone-Dance Reverie.
    
    Quiet!  
    
    I am writing you,
    let me be - 
    if just for a moment.
    
    You can’t all
    take center stage!
    
    Chorus line kick,  
    closet door gapes,
    observation shelved - 
    my 206 join the dance.
    -- Bibelot 

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