LIGHTS OUT

Where Does The Light Go, Lights Out

I am sharing this second draft of a poem in progress. I have
typed up the second draft from my handwritten first draft,
(I always write first drafts with my hand, organically, flowing
out through my arteries and flesh to my pen and onto paper).
THis second draft will accompany me to the lower patio
where I will sit and brood over it, and see if I want to
continue with it or trash it. MY PLAN is to share with you
tomorrow or the next day, the next draft(s), if there are any.

Where Does The Light Go — Lights Out

Like, the light falling through the trees of Paris
onto Hemingway’s face;
on the crests of splashing waves
out the window of Neruda’s home.

Where does the light go that was on
my brother Leonard’s face, yesterday?

You turn on the light switch and the room
fills with light — turn off the light and the
light disappears — where did the light go?

Yesterday’s breath, echo of my voice asking
the waitress for lemon for my water —
the thought of how best to plant the aspen trees
on off
on off
where will the light go? Where will the light go
that shines on Lenny’s newborn calf that’s looking
up towards the house, as we gently thumb closed
Lenny’s eyelids.

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About Ciletti

Jim Ciletti, an award winning poet, filmmaker, and author, is the 2010-2012, Poet Laureate of the Pikes Peak region, and for 41 years, poet-in-residence for the Orme School Fine Arts Festival. Jim gives many workshops on the writing and performance of poetry, and makes poetry house calls to create personal poetry events. Ciletti loves everything Italian, including cooking for family and friends, and loves to plant garlic, make homemade wine, and eating peaches and plums. "Everyday is Christmas, but you don't always get everything you ask for. Sometimes more. Poetry celebrates life."
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