| Brown Paper Bag My brown paper bag has a mottled, carious lining, teeming with
Dusty canisters of forgotten dreams, marked
With faded colors that have lost their flip attitude;
Pale orange, shabby green, tired yellow, lackluster blue
Like time capsules they’ve mouldered at the bottom of this
Paper bag of dreams
This paper bag of me.
These leftover snapshots of sentiment haven’t been
Crystallized in the eternal blessings of Father Time
They sparkle with marred, imperfect, ancient light
A naïve yellow from the prenatal world
A shadowy silhouette, a simulacrum, hideous
Dynamic dogma.
I've endeavored to throw away the
Secret whispers to human desires, to
Seek the golden trumpet of the Divine:
What has been revealed as sacred,
What I hope is truth.
So the next time I reach
Into that paper bag of mine for a cumbersome
Virgin dream
My clumsy fingers will crack
Another flimsy, plastic cask and those
Noxious fumes will issue forth from
The cracked garish colors,
Hold me in a trance:
My childish innocence dispelled. |