... addiction ..., ... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... night ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ..., ... the sun ..., ... time ...

This House Is Clean

haze settles in nicely.

Sunday early beams
cut golden slivers
through dusty air

smoke and sun and dirt
expose light and
its nakedness. and i

have found things which
are haunted during the
night, yet other things

are haunted during the day.
stubborn doublegangers and
wraiths who pine for daylight.

memory spooks; makin’ cakes,
foldin’ linens, singin’ softly
under the breath, place-holders

in the void where you’d stand.
and now the dust mingles and
dances alone in our fair Star’s

array, waitin’ for an other
to fill all the empty spaces
between dawn and dusk.

haze ain’t liftin’ anytime soon.

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