"DRY YELLOW"

on dry yellow faded pages

trussed and Bound, as day’s war wages

encased in a book About it.

Would one even Believe it?

take a Hard look around it

I still couldn’t retrieve it

All.

Would I feel it? Or Doubt it?

the memories only Remind,

of the contradictions Behind;

the Forces of our nature.

all beginnings have Ends.

in places that Scatter winds,

all Escapes narrow to traps,

treasure leaves behind Scraps.

even the best realized Dreams

become frayed around the Seems.

no Cursory life at out look

reveals what in Life it took.

the mournings of Unarrangedness,

the very unspecific Strangeness;

the Unspoken perfunctoriness,

the Perfect wonderficalities

of It.

the Unannounced tomorrows,

the Unforgotten yester days.

all hither up and
thither, down.

write It all down and around

the page less unnumbered Whys.

in all these Dull Decembers

that drift into Jumping junes

a yarn Spun from a loon.

Capricious causes and concerns.

vagaries that Drip discerns.

would anyone even Believe it?

nay; probably Not

even


i.



Beryl Starkovic copyright 2005