Abandon Poem by The Poet SPIEL


removing major patches of my past
not by one measly thread per cut
but in swift gashes
as with a sword
and with my eyes forward
to a destination waiting to be stood upon

founded as new cloth
from which i'll build my garment
to fashion a new culture
with little thought
for what i have abandoned

reckoning what i've forgot
has surely forgotten me

that the swiftness of my sword
has left no bloodied cloth—
no hideous scars—
entire cultures behind—
barely visible
like stepping stones
in night's fog

some of them no doubt
with stains of salty dew in footprints there
left by those who wonder why
those who've only known one cloth
have never wielded a sword
and never will know otherwise

but theirs is not my way
i am bullish as i charge ahead
horns in tandem to my task
prepared to find myself as a stranger in new garb
lonely in new territory
new language new art
seeking the new warp
through which i'll weave my comfort
as i lay me down

yet knowing that it well may be
some touch of consciousness
of those i've left behind
that stirs their vapors of intruding knives
which stir my gut
and on occasion
may carve a moment out of me

so asking is my sword so great?

i am a rambling maverick man
i sleep with purposed light
to maintain my stance
against those knives

so when this cloth
becomes too small
my willful sword
is at my side

and i'll be seeking higher ground

_____The Poet SPIEL

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