The Room
The room is inside me. The door opens every Fall. It's Fall when a guitar climbing a wall has more meaning than in summer. What’s raucous in summer, damning in winter, in fall is the cool surface of the mind. There is a path – a course thought can lie low in. Maybe the room turns slowly like the motion of a reflection. Philosophy begets philosophy. Doing more, as though building a machine for flight, seems possible. The lining of the brain is coated with possibility. The ostinato of thought pushes across an expanse – opens on Land.
William V. Ray
William V. Ray is a retired English teacher who has also been a textbook editor, freelance writer, and, of late, a café owner. His published work includes textbooks as well as poetry and poetic prose. His work appears in Poetry East, Vita Brevis Press, The Write Launch, Subprimal Poetry Art, Pudding, The Opiate, The Art Bin, Painters & Poets, Mass Poetry, Poetry Pacific, and elsewhere. His poetic essay, On the Authority of the Moon, is available at Amazon. He is the editor of the online journal The Courtship of Winds. He lives outside Boston, Massachusetts.
Books
More: https://www.linkedin.com/in/williamvray
Thank you William. A lovely piece, mysterious on the cool surface of the mind.