Hero and Leander (the lamp and the water)

I still walk to that lake, the surface now still,
absence of geometry, ache of tranquility,

a voice but a whisper
soothing, sad, a silver
thorn in the side of love.

What love creates, need destroys.

We put flowers on the table
at the changing of the season.

Then the rains came. We watched
through the kitchen window.
You turned out the lamp.

“I love you more than I need you,” I said.
“Now I know what that means.”
But need, the ache, the silver thorn,
will have its bloody day.

Time passes. Seasons change.

When I walk to the lake I stir the surface,
the glitter of sun, a dangerous swell,
my hand beginning to move
into place a geometry
of memories.

Poem by Gary Gautier
Painting by Cheryl Gautier

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Which drops?

A little slant haiku. Which do you prefer? The first one (“my”), which orients the field more personally, or the second one (“a”), which orients the field more philosophically/metaphysically?

you
are the rain
drops

falling
on my stone
pillow

xxxx

you
are the rain
drops

falling
on a stone
pillow

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Vacancy and order – update

After feedback from Ken, Michael, and Nessa, I made one small change (removing one full line), which, surprisingly, I think balances those three bits of feedback pretty well 🙂

From Granada, 3/30/22

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Vacancy and order – reader’s choice

I’ll take some help with the two versions of a poem below. I like the longer one to be fitted into a concept-based collection, but I’m not sure which is better for a standalone post. Any thoughts?

 

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