The Mystic in the Basement
for Ronald Rowe
He descends
with me
and carries
up
lumps of
cement
and splintery
old boards
and sweeps
the broken glass
the heaps,
the hoards
of half-finished,
never-read, never-sent
abandoned-
but-not
abandoned-
enough
the torn,
worn
frustrated
garments
fraying, moth-eaten—
when
that is done
he goes
for lunch
and writes
a poem
about the sapphire
crystalline sphere,
split
facings of
the star dome
the infinite
at Hi-Fi
Pizza over a
slice
then goes
to McDonald’s
for
coffee.
by Monica Raymond
Categories: Economy
Great poem – thanks.
Economic in form, generous in content. A good read.