Sunday, June 13, 2010

12: Nicholas Power

No Regrets

What can you do with a banjo
when the moon is full
and you’re wretched
and lying like an old poem?

your brain smouldering
with smoke-like tendrils of thought

a violet burning inside your head
like a cloying rhyme
never fully closed

where you had eyes and ears
where your mouth and nose should be

even when the brain
is a smoke-like hearse
never regret moonlight in your bed
or banjos, or memories,
or regrets

You have a foolish heart:
what does that mean
to the sweet, forgetful words
of midnight?


I took the approach that it was a second or third draft of a poem of my own.
Thanks for the opportunity to work with already strong material. I went for
a pared down through line of thought and a familiar rhythm (to my ear!).

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