The old names that I used to know
Roll out no more, like curtains old
Like a theatre in the lesser days
When more was sung in older ways
As I sit here in the mirror room
With lenses quiet as a tomb
Just to think of names I once had seen
Alive, a thread, in poetry seems
Would'ya close the curtain, lock the doors?
And stoke the candles inside no more?
Because the poets heart is quiet when
He life is brightest in the eyes of men
So be it showmanship deceived
Would you show me the name of a friend indeed?
And I'll read and read until bygone age
Until all the lenses have passed away
And the stars become the only screen
Where the heights of poetry
And the shallow depths of the human soul
Can be ere seen
For as the old names that I used to know
Quietly pass away
Only words remain like fallen snow
In the masterpiece of a city day
About the authors who I never see anymore. About our society which worships media and forgets so quickly about verse and live theatre. About some of you people. My favorites. And about the future when all of this man-made technology comes crashing down. Masterpiece for the theater reference, not for the quality of my tired work.
From my "Almost Asleep" collection.
