Stacked up
in old cases
are micro cassettes,
fragments
of conversations
made with coffee,
beer, and cigarettes.
spun together by the
wheels of travel,
and the comings and goings
of creation.
These
are the fingerprints
and logbooks
of times gone uncatalogued,
but recorded.
Laced among these
etchings of memory is the
antique smell of old wishes,
Fingerprints of old selves’ images
cobwebbed around
corners, breaking the rhythm patterned
slats of black and white into some
gossamer diagonals.
Even the cobwebs have shadows!
What were once
only some dog-eared remnants are now
the blackened, forgotten
bones of unchew-ed material,
rendered unidentifiable by time
and the consequences
of improper scrapbooking.
Time has lost its identity
and persons no longer care
about the era of happenings.
Edges fade in the total room
of all things attic-bound.
Behind the curtains of civilization
how the peopling of these
selves somehow happened
in conjunction with planetary
transits and their unmistakeable North Nodes
plastered to fate of the Earth, Moon, and Sun.
The bittersweet musk of unrequited love
descends like light rain
while the sound of a passionate banjo
breaks the air
and movement steps
to kick up some dust in order
to go forward.
Dust, falling like un-trained rain,
just scatters…
What’s left are the new
finger prints of recent visits
and the markings
of an explorer who has
left the continent of
the outside world
to traverse again the terrain
of his unkept inner chambers.
A rich collection
of untouched photographs
and other stains of memories
Layers of interpretation gone
missing. The witnesses
dissolved into their own stories.
Now with the lantern beside her,
The Lady of Shalott who is only
“Half-Sick of Shadows” returns
For she knows
there’s more area under the dark of the sun
than in all the light in the universe of awareness.
And holy ghosts visit
among the dead as much as the living
Marking each traveler as
a historical vagrant, an elusive shutterfly
One who becomes the reluctant
commentary of classical books
Lives on the island of the misfits
Here’s where all the fires are still
lit, and the inhabitants are most
unapologetic for their long dark shadowy arts.
Welcome back to the tower my dear!
May it enchant you with all the surprises and
remembrances of its forgotten inhabitants.
Fiesta Estrellas 
A beautiful poem, Ka. I enjoyed the sensation of sifting through memories and times, names and identities, all of it blurring and weaving– discovering the new as it is released from the old… We are not who we once were, though we have never changed… ever….
Peace
Michael
Michael,
Thank you. Writing this poem was a blast! Yes… your words here are well-founded. It means a lot to me that you read this poem. Thank you,
Ka
I loved your poem! And Ive always loved the pre Raphaelites, the essence of which you capture in the poem. Thanks for liking my post too
Thank you, Kate! Me too about the pre-Raphaelites – but especially JW Waterhouse. It was my pleasure to drop by your blog! Thanks for visiting, too!
Reblogged this on Fiesta Estrellas and commented:
“and movement steps
to kick up some dust in order
to go forward.”
Retrogrades for us all are special opportunities to play with shadows…
This year we saw Beats Antique on Valentine’s Day. This post was before THAT happened.
I love this poem and it has such relevance today, as I have dusted off relics and discovered music I forgot I had ( looking for a Prince CD). You make the underworld very inviting . With Pluto newly transiting my 12th house, maybe it will be interesting, doing an excavation dance!
love,
Linda
I love your comment! Yes, we be dancing in 1999 😢 Too. Prince is everywhere, always.
With our recent Scorpio full moon and two Scorpio rulers Mars and Pluto retrograde, what a time for an excavation dance! Let’s make it fun, Linda, while we still can!
Besides the world just got a whole lot sexier 😉
yes it has 🙂
PS, your artwork here is exquisite. ❤ I want to be the woman in the boat!
Wonderful Poem Ka.. It’s always good to travel through memories and I enjoyed travelling with you 🙂 Love and Hugs Sue x