Going Nowhere

You tell me you weren’t alive three days ago,

that you’ve learned to become unborn.

I want to ask you

how you did it – how you

made yourself clean again,

how you erased the ink smudge

from your right hand,

how I never could.

The literal meaning of Utopia is Nowhere.

You told me if I wanted to get there

I’d have to shed my stories.

I once tried to follow you,

but your lantern didn’t give off enough light

for the both of us

and I never washed that ink smudge from my hand,

never even tried.

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5 thoughts on “Going Nowhere

  1. NOWHERE TO GO

    I want to ask you
    why you ever thought
    you were alive

    and
    why you ever thought
    you were dirty

    and
    why you ever thought
    that what spills from
    that lantern you carry
    is light

    ink is just ink
    you can wear it
    or wash it off

    shredding stories
    doesn’t make them
    go away

    it’s best not to
    bother trying

    I LOVE to read your poems. They always tickle something up from deep inside me.

    Alice

    1. AH! 😀 Now, here’s a poem that really stands on its own two feet! I particularly like that bit about the lantern, and what’s really spilling out of it.

      Always honored to be the tickling feather that enchants the inspiration out of you! Thanks for being mine as well!

Thoughts? I love those.

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