My house is a labyrinth
of unexplored corridors
leading off to Taj Mahals
that rise out of the mist at dawn.
My house contains mountains
and rivers and crimson sunbirds
using their forked tongues to collect
pollen from flowers that don’t grow
anywhere close to here.
There’s a place in the basement of my house
where all the lines of time
intersect and where I stand for whole moments
alone on a street in Paris
before a small gallery-1971,
and Picasso is still alive!
by Keith Taylor, a poet and coordinator of undergraduate writing instruction at the University of Michigan. His newest chapbook of poetry is “Marginalia for a Natural History.” He co-edited a collection of short stories and essays, “Ghost Writers”, which was named a 2012 Michigan Notable Book. He also is the Director of the acclaimed Bear River Writer’s Conference.
Love this poem!! Thanks for sharing this!!! Susie Brewster