Sitting in the warehouse

Sitting in a warehouse
Raymond Weaver
10/23/14 @ 11:55 a.m.

I am sitting in the warehouse yard
among the other worn out- worn over-
damaged by use, or in manufacture,
dreams, Autumn flooding from above.

I am sitting in the warehouse yard
among what is winding down,
or whining out cacophony
fearing what the flooding portends.

I am sitting in the warehouse yard
wondering that even decay
has its own odd beauty.

This is an ‘of the moment’ piece inspired, if inspiration is the word, by my recent readings of some of Frank O’Hara’s Lunchtime Poems. I will not pretend it has any meaning. I will just let it be.

Advertisements

About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
This entry was posted in Poetry ? and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Sitting in the warehouse

  1. PennyD says:

    Love it. Reminds me of a story I wrote about a secondhand store were some of the merchandise were old people each with their own little story.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s