Posted tagged ‘“Night Brain”’

Before Ever Hearing of Plato (And Frankly Even After)

June 12, 2015


Before Ever Hearing of Plato (And Frankly Even After)

The time was once upon a
and the place the space
between her bed
and wall, her head
and torso wedged
between box spring and

Can a human being be
the gold ring that is found
in the fish’s belly?
That ring, long lost,
that redeems an all?

The mannerless dust fingered
her nostrils; she sipped the air
as if it were a glass she were forced,
but thrilled, to swallow–

How worried they would be,
if they would
but look for her–
she imagined their alarm,
called it love,

though heard their voices leaf soft
as turning pages down
the hall, the changing of
a channel.

But this is not a poem
about love, there for the looking.
This is a poem about
the love of shadows–how sometimes
all three of your wishes
are to be
the mouth of your own cave–

how pressed against
some wall inside your head,
some time once upon a,
you love that dim,
that flickering,
that dance–how she
certainly did.


A poem, much revised but still, I guess, a draft, for Corey Rowley (Herotomost)’s prompt on With Real Toads to write about something you might think about in a cave.  For some reason I thought of both this scene and Plato’s Cave (from the Republic).  The drawing is mine; all rights reserved for it and poem.  Have a good weekend. 





Night Brain

June 26, 2014


Night Brain

Hey you!  Night Brain, who cares no whit
for morning’s vows all ‘round,
whose desires drive this body
(though arousal runs aground)–
Be it
for yet another sip–
with my head and plate-full–
or one more check of blue, back-lit,
scratch of escapist soul

that itches like a pox inside,
mosquito swallowed whole,
mistaking screen/glass for the light
at the end of the tunnel.
Night Brain!
How you willfully lame
me–  Night
Brain….  I sit in the glooming
now–waiting for you to confide
in me–whisper what’s looming–



Here’s another (more or less) set of Robert Herrick stanzas for an old prompt of Kerry O’Connor’s and also a “conversation” poem for a new prompt of Kerry O‘ Connor’s, both on Real Toads.   (Yes, I call this one a draft–probably any Herrick stanzas of mine need that appellation.)