Friday 5/10/2013 12:42:00 AM

yellow armies sick with time. red soldiers steal the war in pieces. the end of the world has fractions. decimals to contend. that last touch has an algebra. equations to solve. simple tethers. child. student. death. sterile wars. fertile battles.

i could almost taste her. the slick of her resolve. foul with faces. the sour of her fearlessness. crowded roads. aggressive traffic. closer yet. the broken clock in her back. ticking loudly.  the stuck zipper in her throat. biting down. on a stale story suffocating a fresh heroine.

I'm old now. though i never knew i would be. it happens suddenly. life is quiet until it's loud. the simple prisons we construct. to prove it was real. that it can be that real again. deaf gods play their music. in small rooms. in tiny houses. far from heaven. tracing life through cracked windows. on paper made of sacrifice and condition.

i knew them.. or thought i did. chalk faces on the pavement. the tender science of trust. seams in the darkness. chasing ghosts. always more rain than sun. 

the little knives that chase. poets and lovers. the fierce punctuation that manages this madness. one touch at  a time.

she flaunts her colors. soft crayons spoil the book. the pictures draw her. in grey outlines. hard edges haunt the dead flowers.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.