|Whole Track Questions
How many walls have I scaled, or defended,
in wars long forgotten, but never quite ended,
that still hang around, as thin shadows of ghosts,
awaiting the smell of a lit match to boast
“I’m still present. There isn’t a thing you can do
‘till own that you caused the bad dream to breathe true?”
How many fortunes have gone up in smoke,
with the death of a body, like some cosmic joke,
to merge, as a can’t have, with my misty sky
as if frail human flesh were the essence of I?
And how many lovers, of centuries past,
remain to befuddle a new love? I ask.
I could maunder about it, perhaps learn a lesson.
But I think I’d rather just blow it in session!
by Thom Severtson