shooting his cuffs,

December 31, 2007 at 3:10 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 6 Comments
Tags: , , ,

the Amber looks up, “the moon is playing peekaboo with the stars,” she says he says to her i heard you say says the old man wearily removing his grey fedora,
so glad to be home, we are,
he reaches for his stripey night cap
complete with bell and whistle
but picks up the empty half
watermelon sugar pink moon instead
he says and plops it in on her head,

meanwhile, in dark corners,
failure to misunderstand persists,
where intent is obvious
and is met with equal certainty,

they’ve all gone and left me
tapping the empty screen again,
amuirin he says
with a grin,

twirly bit, misdirect,
to recap that, plop, hinge,
bunch of flowers in the
brim of his hat,


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  1. sometimes despite good manners, politeness, clever imagery, misdirection, one person clearly understands the intent of another and resists it to the absolut’ limits of their capacity. a darkness in life but also a proof of living and of believing,

  2. it is the hinge mentioned in the recap, from which he conjures the flowers,

  3. At least Amber knows the value of a watermelon sugar pink moon, that the flowers would not be the same without it’s blessing or it’s breath on the glass… I hope…

  4. I can hear Amber’s giggles from here. Ha! So clever you are…

  5. Ha ha ha!! I found it, and found you….and you are awesome Paul….to see what I have inspired in you…and that wondorous head of yours!!

  6. Boo! You are there, woohoo, always,

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