Summer, early morning, grass still wet
and webbed by spiders, I painted a house,
helping my brother lift the wooden ladder
off the truck, spill cool streams into cans.
White paint went on approximate and pure,
and as heat lines struggled off the truck,
the trees, galvanized aluminum gutters,
turning everything gold, I thought
how all that year I’d argued, lied,
said things I hadn’t meant, then felt regret.
Sun rose over the sloping roof—
stroke slid into stroke, unevenly.
Near summer’s end the house stood shuttered,
white and perfect from the street,
as if none of my mistakes had mattered.
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Con Chapman
Deven McKay
Dave Rickert
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Comments
Often that's the best we can hope for: that the sum of our efforts outweighs the glitches and mishaps along the way. I certainly hope so, because otherwise I'm sunk...
peece,
dj
Very nice, Hell's.
Oh and BTW I'd gladly read another of your lectures.
Your ad above is for Las Vegas. Is OS taunting us all about the party we're missing?
Well. and stand off and admire and reflect ...
Who. It don't matter if wine stain Ya blouse ...
Or? It is fine if Ya forget Ya pant zippers open ...
some nice person will tell Ya so- Hay! Ya zip~ups!
huh? fun.
It's is now time to baby-chat about incompetence!
a nice day
Hells Bells
no 'hit' bell
invite bells
nice sound
ay, ripples
Near summer’s end the house stood shuttered,
white and perfect from the street,
as if none of my mistakes had mattered.
Ah, how I wish it were that easy...... ;-D
Thumbed.
helping my brother lift the wooden ladder..."
your poetry is beautiful.
You missed a spot just slightly to the right top edge of the dormer.
rAted!
Well done!
Consider the spiders in the dew...
what are they dew-ing?
they are building webs...
these beautiful glittering webs
in the early morning light
of your purgatorial efforts
of creating substantial beauty in the world
are the remains of your webs of deceit
your sins against the holy spirit inside you...
marvel now that you look down upon them and
see them for what they are...
jim
I take a keen aesthetic joy in this new plow
For it will carve dark earth into a masterpiece