A Poem; to the Ringleader

In Poetry and Literature on March 9, 2010 at 2:46 am

The ring leader said,

Go home and listen

Listen to the night.

And let it absorb you-

Then, you will find truth.

I doubt it’s that clear.

I am young, lying, and born in a hospital.

I went to visit there, the ring, then here;

to this concrete building in suburbia.

I am the only contortionist in the circus.

The small spaces lead to smaller spaces,

More minimal, then I walk out of the ring,

Down the steps, out the tent, and I come to the dirt,

The dirty road, where I walk to this building and write this page:

It’s quite simple to know what is true for you or me at my age.

And I guess I’m not

what they feel and hear.

Ring leader I hear you:

hear me, hear me-listen-you and me, we talk on this page.

(I hear you) Me-who?

Well, I see to eating, sleeping, drinking, and being able to love.

I find food, sleep, drink, and a ring leader.

I find an ache for small places,

Or aches for the circus.

I guess being flexible doesn’t make me find

The same things others find who are brittle.

So will my page be flexible that I write?

Being me, it may crumble.

But it will be

Supple, ring leader.

The truth can change-

yet as a part of me, as I am a part of the night.

This is my circus.

Sometimes perhaps you don’t listen to the night.

Nor do I listen to the truth.

As I learn from truth,

I guess you learn from me.

Although I contort-and ache-

I am part of the night.

And the night is true.

This is my page for the ring leader

I wrote this poem over a year ago and just stumbled upon the original. It was vaguely modeled from some poem that I can’t recall. I suppose it’s an autobiography of sorts.


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