Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Walking in My Old Country

I suppose the reason the snout
and upper jaw is missing
from my old plastic Tyrannosaur
is time. It's an old device
to evoke the clock,
my own wall a quick museum
of successes (a punk show flyer)
and failure (the dent
in the wall covered minimally
by a paper with a drawn-on flower).
I got rid of so many books.
A favorite, still here, dog-eared
and coffee stained. No, it
must've been torn off by me
or chewed by one of my dogs.
There's another dinosaur
with its horn filed down halfway.
It is too late to complain.
What do you begin to say
while facing morning?
As if the pillow were yanked from you
and shoes & socks suddenly
put on your feet.

1 comment:

Melissa said...

Really excellent poem about grown up nostalgia for childhood days. I think that it is hard to write about that kind of thing without making the reader roll her eyes. There wasn't any eye rolling here; I liked the poem. Kudos.