www.zacstafford.com

I hate coming up with names for my poems, can you tell?  If they were published, they would either be numbered, or all called the same:  New Poem.

on every park bench

every fountain ledge

a candle lit in the dark

to remember.

the letters written

were never read, but

burned in a pan in

the driveway, the

smoke rising, filling

their eyes with visions

of the missing, filling

their throats

with words unspoken.

I wrote this while I was at the Dwelling In The Woods in Mc Grath, MN.  Heard of it?  Neither had I until a friend  told us about it and I have been there three times now.  It is a place to forget your social media, blog, phone, radio, TV, laptop.  That shit doesn’t work up there.

2 hrs north of Minneapolis St. Paul, but feels worlds away.  The cabins are well stocked, and have kitchens and a toilet.  You can pick up your food for dinner/ lunch and bring it back to your cabin.  It is easy to speak not a word while there, even if you are with another.

It really strips you of all artifice. Kinda feels like you walk around w/o a face, but with your beating soul there instead.  Nothing to hide behind.

You should go if you need peace, quite, solitude.

http://www.dwellinginthewoods.org

Post a comment

Name: (required)

Email Address: (will not be published) (required)

URL:

Comments:

Notify me of followup comments via e-mail