Poet as Hermit

It’s not because I’m not thinking of you. It’s more because all of the poets I want to interview are not speaking.

So, to offer something up during this interlude, this:

poet as hermit 

cobwebs cement hinges of doors unopened
poet as hermit
etched by etchings
pencil stubs sub for friendship
no reason to mend torn gloves
sockless in sobriety
all thought golden
left unsaid
audio recordings track upon track
symphonies of voices
fly under radar
treasure troves gone with a click of ‘delete’
no one the wiser
but poet, the hermit,
snickers at elusive human attachment
from birth to death
all looks, aloof, alleviated by sleep
a latched door away
until stretchers slide silently
into unmarked graves

note: i wrote this on June 18th, but it takes on new force with the death of Amy Winehouse

judih fear, 2003

judih
july 30, 2011

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