4/16/14
By Will Falk
I am looking for a pick-axe
a long one with a thick handle
one to chip my way
through the asphalt covering
everything
I want to hear crickets
tall grasses at my heels
the shift of sand
the suck of mud
starlight
this is what I think about
wandering San Diego at night
the stars, especially,
are quiet and dull
barely audible for the city-lights
there are no pick-axes
so I look for a dark place
a hole in the city
to fall on my knees
scraping them on glass
aluminum cans and
gum-covered concrete
to offer all this to the sky
where stars are said to shine
pouring their light downwards
but after hearing my confession
as I rise and head home
I think they might pull, too
like this
I know the feeling, Will Falk. Great poem.
Thanks Shelley! I hope you’re feeling peace.
I love you, Will. It’s comforting to see you, wonderful as ever.
I love you, too, Jorge. I miss you and hope you’re well.
Well put, Will :). Dig poem. Miss you.