My room is now half-empty,
my books are boxed in the basement,
my desk has been dismantled
to get it down the final flight,
my borrowed typewriter has been returned.
There are spider webs in the corners,
blue-gray bug bodies in my window sills.
All the artifacts of my three and a half years
have been divided - some
thrown out - the rest downstairs;
I'm dislocating myself.
It's not just another move;
not just a change of address,
I'm not even sure where I'm going.
Her letters lie on my side table,
the last one two weeks old,
the last call six weeks earlier,
my last plan the one I'm following.
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copyright Guelph Mercury - Dave Carter
Jerry @ Wally's by Mo Kauffey
Home for musings and poetry.
Rhyme of the Ancient Marinade
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You go Ego
Going Walkabout
Portrait of the Artist on a Street Corner
copyright Guelph Mercury - Dave Carter
The Holy Fool
- Jerry Prager
- A former community newspaper editor, published poet, improv musician, playwright, historian, chef, canoe trip guide and stone worker, actor, dancer and under-employed jack-of many trades.
A Capella
Jerry @ Wally's by Mo Kauffey
The Ironworker's Kid
My father was an ironworker,
high steel molten man,
left my mother via an AA liaison that left him
a further love on now in Saskatchewan.
The son of the son of unions,
the strike organized kind,
a sober anonymous saint now
undoing your lifetime of harms.
Ironworker's kid,
I got I-beams in my eyes,
standing on this height,
foot slips from falling,
my father, O father
on Father's Day recalling.
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Copyright for poetry and lyrics belongs to Jerry Prager.
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