childhood slowly returning // varying ghosts...

Late at night:

If you press your forehead
hard against the cool car window glass,
you can feel
the stars' slight fever-fire,
crackle & sparkle,
gently burning.

But all the houses & streetlamps
are a little too bright
to notice the
constellations & planets
slowly twisting,
unfurling, churning.

But by dawn's
first early purple light,
you will bear witness to the finest
of Venus' miracles,
yearning.

And your innocence,
magic and
childhood
(reflected in her
 soul, body, shower song
 and eyes):

Are slowly, surely
returning. 

***

I curse
these ghosts
that still haunt
my sheets
and bed,

and
sometimes
my dreams, too.

But I really miss
the ghost
that used to sing loudly 
in my shower...

And leave all her
wonderful shit
& family photographs
strewn about my
living space & bedroom. 


(c) Brent Harpur, 2015.

"Love me two times, then go away!!" (Jim Morrison, The Doors.)

“A photograph is a moral decision taken in one eighth of a second." (Salman Rushdie)