| Christopher Kelen |
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| Written by Christopher Kelen | |
| Saturday, 19 July 2008 | |
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the soldier’s dream I was fifteen when I went to the war never built with my hands never knew woman’s love I’d tilled the soil in my half schooled way now I’m an old man eighty and more never came home till now in this dream you can’t imagine a road so far track by the green river banks goes along willows all the way yes eighty years have passed the village with them now just dry stones snake haunts everything gone to seed people I pass on the way look right through me I want to tell familiar faces how I met the ancients how wet through with tears their clothes were as if they’d been caught without umbrellas but they were the sky themselves all the way home view clouded with weeping I felt if only I were a ghost there should be tears for me after Cao Cao 1 the ocean stands me still out loud I make these lines deep blue down from the cliffs enduring above how fortunate to feel such passion 2 the road is high and rough and tortured – like traveling up some giant’s guts bear in my path and either side anonymous growling dusk is homeless the callous sun goes strings on my back a sleepless strum and then I hum accompany myself a goose chimes in wild as the wind ragged as these climbing crags rude poem with moon these lips on mine ‘this night until the end of time’ – which girl hasn’t heard that line? an open window and … candle gone simple smile curtains parting robes drop in the moon’s clear voice my name |
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| Last Updated ( Monday, 04 August 2008 ) |
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