Last year, I wrote quite a bit of poetry but only published a couple of the poems on this blog. This year I’d like to clean up and show more of the poetry I write. Last year’s many leftovers seem like a good place to start.
I was working on this one last year. I tried adding a fourth stanza tonight, but I wasn’t as satisfied with it. Nonetheless, there’s something I like about what I have so far and I decided to put it up regardless.
A Key Without a Door
If I could write words to dance on finger tips
And acrobatic letters to unfold you,
Would you come to me alive and speak new words,
If I could carve magic signs for the golems in your mind,
Could you write a new truth on your skin of clay and dust
Casting ecstasy in form?
If I could draw lines to chart chthonic power,
Could you exhume your burial of umbrage
And from the barrow grow?