Thursday, December 23, 2010


Feather duster and 
dust bunnies scurry
with all the holiday rush
for all to be prepared,

Cobwebs long ignored
finally receiving their due.
All done the way she instructed
so long ago.

And I poke around my own things,
like a left behind relative
rediscovering a richness
I didn't know existed.

Sorry for the neglect
each piece lifted,
dusted and carefully

Words revisited
resurrecting memories,
people, places,
some not even my own.

What is it 
with this longing for
what was,
what was not?
All that could be
and never was?

Fingering of scars,
flashes of silver 
that seem to 
settle upon me
at inopportune times

my pen to rise
and document it all
or at least come up
with a title 
for distillation later....

Yes, making art is way more compelling
than cleaning.


Post a Comment

<< Home