G.R. Melvin writes and shoots

BLOOD, SHADOWS, OILS

In the upper peninsula of Michigan
blustery state road 2 you must go.
it's quite common to drive over
deep blood in the snow/a dead buck or doe.
just as felines must fall & fill gutters
South of there, all over.
deep blood deep in the snow.
With the people of upper Michigan
it's common they'll drape over,
& tie up their meat
off the back their battered trucks
and freight it home to their freezers
for later.

Here in Southwest Florida
on the way to work
it's uncommon...
(I called out "Oh my God!")
It's uncommon to drive over...
(I Killed an alligator!)
I was light on sleep and late for work
All in a dream's dread, in my headlights
I called out "Oh my God"
still when I left work, dark in the dawning
(I left It for the taking. It was gone.)
Still were spilled shadows. most, it was gone.

Lost. home, what would save me?
milk cream & alcohol
Nor Down on my knees
under Art on a wall;
Oils spilled on
empty space clean
I Know is for all, from All
(I called in "Oh my god")
stains for a dream.

G.R. Melvin writes & shoots

A FOND, OLD, FARAWAY ROOM

. 

“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lovers. It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of. One you haven’t seen in a long time…”

“.. A fond, old, faraway room?”

“Exactly.”

--from “Kafka On The Shore”, Hanuki Murakami
.
.
.

We mind that there mustn’t be dust
On those closed blinds.
Behind those blinds,
We find us.
We find ourselves salving
Our sore selves,
Saving us so
Fleetingly. So Pretend - Completely.
And after each chapter,
Which does us delirious,
It can be meant as some payment,
It can serve to defray cost
It can’t save us, when in a night and a day,
without fail, We will derail.
Alone, All memories lost

.

.

.

“I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair”

--Leonard Cohen,RIP,/ from “Tonight Will be Fine”

G.R. Melvin writes

Q U I L T L E S S   W O N D E R

Will a quilt that drapes,

Dramatically,  one  wicker

Adirondack  chair,

Drape  me?

.

.

Will a qualified straight-shooter, finally,

Dramatically, shooting his or her mouth off,

Try  to  be  fair,

Capturing   me?

Adirondack Chair -- Debbie DeWitt