the first thing that comes
to mind
is silver. not gold.
does this image still have
currency?
does it still speak to you?
will you carry it in your
pocket,
listen to the jangling of
history and myth;
or are these merely coins
emblazoned with a stranger’s
face,
more or less worn by hands.
i would like to think that
these poems are an offering,
laboured over -
filled with intention.
i would like to place them
in your hands, to exchange
the words for sound,
to hear you speak the words
and roll them around in your
mouth
and mind, to carry them with
you
as you walk away.
i would like to think that
some small pieces will be
remembered
or pieces of pieces
rediscovered on occasion,
like lost coins between
cushions
or money found in pockets
when doing the laundry.
so, here: i give you these
thirty pieces.
i have done my best to be
honest
about the voice behind the
voice.
i have tested what is good,
true and beautiful.
i have polished them
and brought them into the
light,
and now i place them in your
hands.
spend
them however you choose.
