With time
the world spins
away from us
or perhaps
we away from it
caught as we are
on its centrifuge
or in its vortex
Its great events
mere dramas
on a screen
Its politics
reality TV shows
egos shouting
down other egos
Its great heroes
actors going home
without make`up
without scripts
What are we
but shrinking dolls
spinning onward
in time’s dryer
Even the cries
within us
grown silent now
when squeezed

” . . . For awhile, the outside world
existed in imagination, in memory,
in books or suitcases, deep in closets.
There was nothing but the town itself,
hiding from what was possible . . .” ~ Faith Shearin

Artwork: Brian McCormack, hamiltonstreet gallery.com


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to Spin`Dry

  1. says it all. Great poetry Peter


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