It’s never about birds in poetry;
it is about our inadequate,
marrow-filled bones that
weigh us down
reminding us of the immediacy
of the dust.

 It’s never about stars in poetry;
it is about our stars spouting
neon pulses and xenon gas,
LED, HID, blue light,
street light, security light flooding
our city coffin.

It’s never about trees in poetry…
It’s never about silences in poetry…

It’s never about… reality.


Okay, blame Nosaint Augustine!  After he wrote one of the many great completions of Jilly’s Challenge poem, he said he was waiting for me to do one.  Careful what you ask for, people!

18 thoughts on “Exegesis

  1. Our city coffin!!!! So, all of our man-made lights are just our way of trying to put our hands on the stars, but it only serves to bury us…
    And I love the two additional lines–like fresh challenges– at tHmmmm makes me want to write the trees & the silence. Excellent, Charley!


  2. Gah! I love this, the way you cascaded the lights from a metaphor to the literal and back to metaphor with the coffin. And then the open-endedness of those last lines and “reality” because we who write are living in the world of our minds with this stuff. Awesome, Charley!


  3. I like the fact that we live in a world where stars can be diamonds cut out on the sky, or great burning balls of gas, or dancing goddesses – all at the same time. I love it when metaphor and reality clash together, like you make them do here.


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