The Pursuit of Poetry (by Jennifer Compton)


It’s later afternoon.  It’s always later afternoon.

Pick up all you want to carry.  Walk out the door.

Walk towards the setting sun.  It’s very importan

to walk towards the setting sun.  Of course it means

turning away from all the people you are leaving

with cold eyes unnameable cold eyes..  You could say

I’m going. Don’t know why.  I don’t know where.

(Never say goodbye.)  Take what you will want.

(This is always very little very little things.)

Now you have walked out of the house where everything

means too much.  Now you are walking yp the street until

you don’t know where you are.  (Abandon what you thought

you wanted to carry._  You are becoming unclean forgetting

the passwords walking like dancing talking without meanin

back under the moon you never tough you’d see again


in a voice you have heard for a long while    white    lines

    stone    tree

guessing lamp post guessing moon at the confluence of

memory something

smell right something jerks twitches flutters something falls

down lies there –

there is the next front door right there.

It’s really  important to walk towards the setting sun.

And to never tell where you have been, what you have done.



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