Here is the first part of a poem that I can extend in a number of ways. So, for an early 2026 project, this is the decline of a living room that I used to know.
Cushions flattened, upholstry thinned,
chair legs cracked and broke.
The piano grew old, gap-toothed, jangly;
soon its notes refused to sound.
Upholstery ripped, horsehair came through;
floorboards creaked; curtains hung
like jackets on hooks.
Grime-covered windows greened,
the weather stole in;
a board placed in the gap
but weather, like bees, found another way.
The floorboards warped, rotted;
one day an ivy shoot poked a pair of leaves.
through a crack in the window frames.
I remember green-tinted glass vases,
photographs of yankee cousins
and space that the fire could hardly heat.
And though there was light; I remember
the faces dim like fish in a river;
and the growing resonance of voices
in that emptying room.
