Was speaking to a guy in my tent and he gave me an idea, for a poem I had been thinking about. I partly wrote this on the way to the chow hall, and finished the rest over a sandwich. Perhaps a pensive poem....usual subject matter...Make it be whatever you want...
A Place to Learn Forgetting
On the edge of another beginning,
Trying to forget you in this place.
Believing this is where I can fix my mind,
Making it like you never were.
There is no sound here except what men have made,
Gurgling throats of generators,
Fast heartbeats of slick black rotors.
Not a bird’s asking voice,
Or that mystic rolling sound of wind,
Rushing along on its own highway at the top of Georgia pines.
The soldiers’ sleeping noises,
A tired, night time choir.
It is like heavy fluid,
Pouring around my home of wood and plastic and canvas,
Covering me.
You’re still in my head.
But, I think that this place must be the cure.
January 2008
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