Reasonable Insanity Poem by Charles Lara

Last Friday Night
in this old house
9 years after it all started for me
back then when I was just
out of the old neighborhood
and into this place
with a back yard and a fence
so far away
from long ago faces
lost inside a faded time
that never did come back
but only in remnants
found upon words
written from memory & night flowers
singing for rain
for all those that remain.
It is the last minutes of the last Friday
in this old house in Oak Park
a place just outside of Chicago
the place where Hemingway found his voice
and where I still seek mine
inside this house that has let me go
so I write or type as many would say
while listening to Zepplin sing out No Quarter
just as I did when fat dreams came in bulk
and living was sitting pretty showing
red red orange sunsets painting photographic skies
of what use to be rented but never did own
Stillness paces from one room to another
the fireplace is off
now waiting for the next owners
to bring it back to burn into those nights
when silver moons turn cold and
dogs forget to howl over the blueline
passing the el by speeding
towards the city just as it happened
9 years ago when I was up and awake
just as I am now on
the last Friday in this house
blowing smoke rings over words
whispering sweet insanities
full of so much reason.