Map Maker.

17th Century Map of the World

 

Map Maker

March 2009

East of Eden,

The Garden of Weedin’,

Planting my seeds of deeds undone’

By everyone,

I ever knew,

Except for you.

Except for you,

Who let the roses grow,

Who had no fear of snow,

You,

The cold meant nothing to.

And in the moonlight

On a warm night

Though I couldn’t see clear,

I watched you disappear,

Around the corner

Into nowhere,

Again.

 

East of Angels,

West of Heaven

On the wings of a firebird,

Away into the red sky,

Standing there,

A haven?

Looking for a Raven?

I don’t know why or who,

Or which bits were true,

Only that this Phoenix flew,

And it does not matter now or how,

Nor does the chatter of flattery.

 

I may never understand,

North of Neverland,

But bats in the Belfry

Would think less of me,

And I would too,

If I didn’t do,

The right thing

By the spring

Of the babbling brook

Of that which I took

And life came through me to.

Shades of nice and easy,

Make me queasy,

Long and difficult

Was the result.

 

South of Nowhere,

The outer stratosphere

Where zombies

Compare hair and recipes,

In the deep freeze of suburbia,

I found my salvation,

In my own rhymes,

In my own time,

X-marks the spot,

This is everything I’ve got.

Buried treasure

Resurrected,

My heart out of the well,

Broken with the spell,

Glued together with gossamer,

Leaking dreams of you

that never were.

 

Traveling on to be

Here now,

And contemplate a vow,

Made in secret to myself,

Not by hook or by crook

Or circle jerks in a quirk,

Still love finds a way to work,

Forgive and understand,

This isn’t what I planned,

Water gets in everywhere,

And no, it isn’t fair,

But maybe sweeter then by far,

Everywhere we are,

For having known we knew,

Another soul as true,

Remembering steadfast

The Garden Outcasts,

Outlast

And grow stronger evermore,

Than any roses grew before.

 

 

 

From, Gold Mine

 

 

 

 

 

 



Categories: navigation., Poetry, prose

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