The Investigation, poetry by Roy Eisenstein at
Harrison Candlin

The Investigation

The Investigation

written by: Roy Eisenstein



I write from the vein
Bleeding my ink
It’s an inquiry
An interrogation
I make my confessions
Some are honest
And some are fabrications coming from the wound

There are also wild birds
Many colored and free
The manic edge of my humor
The iconoclastic finger in the air
A venue of escape

It is there
In my electric chair
Where I find all the competing emotions
The twisted vines
The eulogies and celebrations
Cryptic puzzles with missing pieces
Maps written in invisible ink
Roads going nowhere and yet everywhere

There are feral beasts
Aggressive or defensive
Hard as Brooklyn streets
A soul tattooed with graffiti and secrets

A vault where I keep my shadows
Where my lost loves haunt
My dark, eastern European, Jewish winter that demands voice
A protesting resistance
Collections of dreams that broke when crashing to the concrete earth

Still I open that vein
I peer inside beneath the armor
Excavating the ruins of the past and the arcane hieroglyphs of my personal mystery

I gather up the relics and the bones
Drag it all out from that desert keep
And I read the Rorschach stains of my ink

It’s an inquiry
And interrogation

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