don't take it personally

Young people who wanted you

Fade away

They move for the mountains

Slowly stay where they lay

But their colors become gentler

Don’t take it personally

Everyone who speaks

To you

Means the words they say

Even if you cannot decipher the meaning

They mean them any way

But don’t take them personally

Days are inches on a hem

Growing slowly towards the floor

The light grows quieter

In the late afternoon

As it softly surrounds former half shadows

That once framed your face

But don’t take it personally

It is all obliged to grow dim

The closer

You get

The thing about your poetry, Alexis, is that I’m never sure why I like it. I’m never (never) sure what it means. I just know that I always like it. Maybe it’s because of lines like this:

Days are inches on a hem

Growing slowly towards the floor

I don’t know. I really don’t. But then maybe there doesn’t need to be a reason…

Anyway, moving on…

Hahaha, spam alot.

What are you rebelling against, san? And just where the heck have you been?

(I’m going to add to that poem one day, using just the “From” names. This morning I got emails from Ismet Schober and Helga G. Manley. When I write the next great novel the characters will all be named from spam. Ismet and Helga? It practically writes itself.)

Rebel? Nah. Nothing to take personally, here, I’m afraid. Otherwise, just hanging around between the spaces. That’s where this poem found me. Okay, I’m not making sense anymore. Moving on…

Oh, and yes, I don’t know why, but if you wrote the “From” book, I think I’d read it. Just seems to add to the imagination, I think.