grounding of a poet by friend

oh
he is always there
with his head
in the stars

whether he sees any more
than the twinkle
who knows

I suppose
it is eternally clean
up
between the lights
and the darkness

maybe too pure
is what I’m trying to …

anyway
anyway

if you look
into his eyes
you’ll get a faraway gaze
because
he seems to be here
but he’s not within miles

so
from time to time
I mix a bucket
of mud

and
from time to time
I take hold
of his hand

when I think he’s too far away

when I think he’s been
too long gone

when I think he might lose himself
in the tease of those
winking lights

I put his hand in the slurry

I hold him
while he squirms

with his fingers
in the mud
I remind him
of earth

that he belongs
here
not lost in the stars

it’s hard
to watch him coming back
but it’s what you do
as a friend

then he’ll take a deep breath
and look me
in the eye

grunt a sort of

thank you

cast around
for a pen

a pen
and a sheet of paper

lock himself in a room
and he’ll write
where he’s been

write where the stars are

he’ll write of his joy
his broken heart
when he had to return

but
friends don’t let friends
go
alone
among celestial bodies
out on astral planes

no friend
would do that

so I
accept the blame

yes
I accept his blame
and I would do it
for him
again

~

Poem #538 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.