Thursday, February 03, 2011


Boy, Not Star by d.w.

Boy, not star
the ghost inside my pocket
whispers to me, then
secretly hides
from prying eyes
not wanting to be seen.

Boy, not star
speaks in riddles
cryptic little half-poems
balanced between now
and happy everafter.

A secret mirth, boy, not star
tells me the origin of the ocean
beyond the magic corners
stardust fleets
and I'm supposed to get it
but I don't, I just sit there
(in my Charlie Brown pose.)

It does no good to question
I just, y'know, go with it
wishing I could turn myself
into a nickel at times.

Boy, not star
what's it all about
these abstract words
floating sideways in my mind
just words to reflect upon
to light up the world
like big floaty magic animals
where nothing is commonplace?

Other electric days
the world goes on
and there's just
a nickel in my pocket.


At 5:14 AM, Blogger Unknown said...

Love your poem. Thanks for sharing... its magical ya know...

At 10:46 AM, Blogger El Vox said...

Thanks Gregory. I was remiss and overlooked your comment, but very complimentary of you.


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