Monday, May 27, 2013

Alchemy

Late night sitting,

so much of it consumed

with chipping fragments of stone

from a boulder,

art that bares no consequence.

When the car pulls up, stopping,

one last pack of cigarettes.

The moment presents itself in full clarity.

Four wheels were hugging every curve and

knuckles are still white from death gripping

the stirring wheel.

This is where true laughter begins and ends.

There was no race,

just an intense interest in the moment,

and what of this moment

and those to come.

Promises have been made

and promises have been broken.

If these tumbled walls and fallen rafters

are ever assembled to form a home again,

I will have finally succeeded

in turning lead to gold.

2 comments:

  1. this makes my neck tingle.. it's difficult to place the feeling but this is almost haunting..
    very very good!!

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  2. This is a really great poem, Jason. Thanks for sharing it!

    ReplyDelete