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Spiral
by Glenn CurrierIts metal falls through all the holes
on the edge of my days.
Just like I do.
It weaves in and out.
To the coolness of the north
where lines drift in.
Some from the warmer climes
of my south.
Roots so deep
the minerals and rot deposits
trickle up the generations
to display in the green and gray
of my language.
How thin the wire
holding together the particles of me
adhering in blue and black.
The spiral scale of sanity
a little here
a little less there
on the pages
of my notebook. 12/01/2011 Posted on 12/01/2011
Copyright © 2026 Glenn Currier
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/01/11 at 06:03 PM Really good write Glenn. I suspect with the state of the economy and the time of the year there many who are only a short step away from the edge of sanity. I've been to the line and probably crossed it a vew times over the years. |
| Posted by Lori Blair on 12/02/11 at 01:45 PM I love how you include nature amongst the inner turmoils of the soul..oh yes we are all connected indeed and nothing is stagnant. Every page on our notebooks is shared in some element! Brilliant! |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 12/02/11 at 02:43 PM I particularly love stanza three, good write! |
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