Old shadows break in the brand new walls
The dirt projected by the naked winter giants of trees
Stains bare wooden flesh with familiar rusty bandages
All the old calloused front porches
Welcome the newcomer
You can see the tears marked on the ground
Where the old house stood
Outlined in chalk like a crime scene
At the bottom of a pit
That got ripped in the floorboards
But the construction workers –
They plaster the old wound shut.
Do you feel your head unspooling into the universe?
The strings are fraying at the edges,
irreparably stained with the stardust at the ends
Of the many worlds you stretch across.
Yes, Alice thought as she drifted deeper into sleep from within that lightless and beautiful place, make it stranger now. Make it all new again.
My very favorite poem is an inarguably terrible one. I do not know its name and do not care to find out if it has a name.
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