Melancholy & Missing Lighters

 What was it I was going to say? Slipped away probably because it needn’t be said. At that edge almost not knowing but second guessing the gain, loss, or effect of an otherwise hesitant remark. Slant of light on a brass box. The way a passing thought knots the heart. There’s nothing, nothing to say. Poem taken from: Are You Going to Stay? by Thomas Meyer. Poets.org. Retrieved November 22, 2022, from https://poets.org/poem/are-you-going-stay 

 'Neath a rail bridge, escaping the sun's glare, The smell of creosote in the air, Dripping and hanging from the wooden stands, Braiding my loose hair with dusty hands; The Texas heat has made my tongue go dry, Being unheard's made me go awry, I am made mortal in glass and dog's blood, A dream I wish you'd never woke from.

 It was at a wine party— I lay in a drowse, knowing it not. The blown flowers fell and filled my lap. When I arose, still drunken, The birds had all gone to their nests, And there remained but few of my comrades. I went along the river—alone in the moonlight. . . . Li Bai (Li Po, Li Pai)  (701-762) Tang Dynasty Chinese Poet Poem taken from: Translated by Shigeyoshi Obata The solitude of night by Li Bai . Poetry Foundation. Retrieved November 4, 2022, from https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52535/the-solitude-of-night 

 My train, in dark and quiet country, stops. I feel a spectator to gathering fae, Whilst gazing blinking lights of fireflies That're strewn about, in perfect pleasure 'mongst The grassy fields that're overgrown and wild; To join their games, forbidden, lest my train Depart, and leave me stranded, far from all.