Langston Poem by Lee B. Mack

Langston? He’s dead
Ghost dead -miss him
Ghosts haunt my crystal stair
Onto terraced galleries
Evanesce through my front
Door -in my den spirits
Often seen are not unusual
There -where I sit at my
Archeology digs
Writing tools in disarray
My desk full of chiseling
Pieces of my empty cup
Billowing spells of gases
Disobey -from swollen
Empty bellies soured by
misanthrope haunt of
Walter Mitty terracing to
Give the bounty up
Would paranormal night
Vestiges ascend spiritually
From barren ground –from
Distilled colorless waters?
No matter the gift of rain
Come down -sitting now
Waiting for the ghost writing
Muse writing poems used
Writing and reading
To love him and be the
Wiser for resplendent love.



Original 08 28 2009
Improvisation 03 20 10