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Monday, November 2, 2015

(300 words below)

The space that you need squeaks by
In a bubble exclusively gone
Around a corner
Tight
Is how it feels to be so thin as space allows
But now comes the
Break 
Here let me whistle 
Come to the table
Bread is waiting
For the key
That 
Have nots
Bust their faces for
True is the club
From the cave
Struck dumb
Sooner or later 
Crumbs
The answers
Where cut corners cobble themselves together
I will climb the ladder
Feet trembling 
Till the day I die
If we don't find way to frame up
Fill in, plumb, electrify
This other shell I was born without 
Did God intend I would struggle so
Habitat, I cry, habitat
Habitat tête-à-tête
with a green roof on top
Pretty please
Old clock
1000 threads, each as weak as fluff
No rope 
I pray eagerly my piece 
Even though you can can't make much out of starlight 
Or really any kind of light
It's all so insubstantial 
Words, light, time, bubbles
We are trying to build a house
Ancestors in the stones we move 
Nothing jumps into place
It's sad when poems develop
lines about the same length long
It seems to me a sign of dying
Before yet we get the house built
To the exclusion of everything else
The house
Parts die before they are put together 
Sometimes 
And I can't accept the idea of not building 
The house
A simple thing really 
Not a castle or a mansion
Just s suitable place to live when I'm 80
I like to watch the light change at the end of the day and the moon come up
Just like my light will change
And come up only as a reflection 
Somewhere I suppose 

- another poem by Alice Eckles

This blog is heading into dormancy and will reincarnate as DancingBeePress.com, click blog. But for now I'm heading south for a short spell and will be called Alice Lee. Also I started a gofundme for solar panels.

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