old light

She followed him into the great fog,
returning to the womb of everything.

I have only a few days here to recover
heirlooms, mementos from many rooms.....


Where are those boxes of thick Christmas?...
with ornaments and lights from a hazy era...
when time spiraled through the fifties, sixties...
when things had substance inside substance....
and when our large colored bulbs glowed
diffusely, strangely on the front porch --
hanging totems of a god's dreaming eyes?

The tree balls and trinkets have dimmed
from memory. Only large colored bulbs
are spiraling and glowing behind my eyes...
even back then glowing metaphysical rumors.
Yes...old Christmases were about freaking
myself out with colors and cult-like shadows...
and watching two people made out of magic.

Everything has always been about the strange.


I just can't find any boxes of Christmas.
I've looked through the stunned basement
and grieving shelves upstairs. Everywhere...

I'm good at finding things, as if I had some magic,
but I can't find any boxes holding strings of eerie life.

Maybe it's better this way – not recovering Christmas.
But I wanted to save one large enamel-red spiral bulb.