Commons

The space around pine needles and verbs,
Around an angry moonlit friend
Becomes a mansion.

I swear, this is no conspiracy of cheerfulness,
But I drag the bloody door of myself through
A bigger door again and again.

Burn through me, lemon, ginger.
Sing through me, blasted mosquito.
Inch through me, lover, legion.

This nameless house.
The shoreless common.
There are lockless ways in.

2013
with thanks to TWR for the phrase of the fourth line

2 Responses to “Commons”

  1. Fey says:

    I love this Lockless Ways in. There are and you have found them.

  2. eduardo says:

    I drag the bloody door of myself through/A bigger door again and again — love this exquisite image. And too, “Inch through me lover, legion.”

    There are lockless ways in. And the congregation says, Ohm!

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