Monday

Poem by Local Poet Jonathan Stoker


The Night Sky


As I walk to the end of the gravel drive
Looking at the sky, tattooed in velvet and ink
A backdrop that serves only to enhance the brightest
specks of light which pour upon the spot I stand
for this moment of time.
I drink the night air
Like a cool fluid made of silence and thought.
The stars are too low this night,
Pinholes in a bottomless well.
I reach up to cup one.
Like the others, it eludes my imagination,
and refuses to be captured.
I know I am alive tonight
I am not a recluse, hidden away like the rusted rake
with the splintered handle, in the corner of the shed.
I am not homeless, like the seed of a dandelion
Riding on whispers, finding refuge in the chipped corner of a

sidewalk.
I am not Kerouac, never want to be,
because he was then, and these stars are now.
If I could only freeze time and watch
as the sun slowly descends, like a pat of melting butter
coating the branches of the birch trees
and night is resurrected to cast its spell
On yet another morning.
The silhouette of the old pine tree
Trying its best to hide the moon
Reaches down to thumb through the pages,
now covered in dust and webs
to jar my memories of people I’ve forgotten.
The cobblestone path snakes through the garden
to the front door.
It’s a new beginning of a new day
These are the days of new words, new wonders,
new miracles.


by Jonathan Stoker


Join the poets and poem enthusiasts every second Thursday of the month at Crackskulls for the Spoken Word poetry reading 7 to 8:45 p.m. The next poetry reading is Thursday October 8th. Browse the poetry books and sip a frappe and listen to local poets recite their poems. To read or just for more information contact Arlon.


(Remember to click on all underlined words to open new windows to those websites.)

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