ghosts present, ghosts past


No one here. Strange.

Daily in the seat in which i now

recline there is

a crossword sudoku man, never

looking up, but always

concentrating which looks

a lot like ignoring. i have

never spoken to him, nor he

to me. i wonder if

this chair knows that

it is me and not him

or if the table is burdened by the

crush of computer, yearning for

newspaper mornings. Or maybe

they are just as fulfilled

either way, as long as there will

only, always, be

someone here.


2 thoughts on “ghosts present, ghosts past

  1. I like this kind of reflection. We always need to be reminded of the wonderment of the mundane. Like Chesterton, to look at things inside out so that we can properly appreciate them in their normal frame of reference.


  2. Your comment highlights well what i like about this poem, chiefly that it manages to elude a single interpretation but without relying on esoteric or verbose presentation. Your view on this poem is not at all what i had in mind, which i think is terrific, and actually opens my own mind to the possibilities of what i have written. As always, thanks for reading.


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