Paper Man


Paper Man



Those were the distances,

the attachment of your soul to mine,

where we slept in the windy valley

with that imbecile comedian

who would play the flute

and try to emulate your profound nature.


The day you opened the door and I walked in,

stared at your multi-coloured paintings,

grateful to eat your wonderous gifts,

I needed you like a bandage. I needed

my cigarettes, the nights outside in alleyways

fantasying formidable adventures

to express our courage.


Thank you for your arms

that veiled me from the eclipse

and the strangers you brought to my side

with God brewing strong in their stomachs


I never did get my housecoat

or the dance in the traffic I so wanted.

They tell me you are going far,

to great planets that have no names.


On my bare belly,

our hands once joined.


You are on stage, singing,

drenched in a beautiful darkness.


You were my companion, lover

in the January frost.



Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Ygdrasil – A Journal of the Poetic Arts” July 2018

Click to access Y-1807.pdf

Ygdrasil, July 2018-1807



Published in “The Academy of the Heart and Mind” May 2018



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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