Thursday, April 9, 2009

Long Sensation Delivered

The wombs of my eyes menstruate the salt of the years. The room unties from ear to ear. The wake of sailing arrows is made up of Easter time colors.I've saved all the keys,wrote melancholy anthems for each. In the room is a dying man dethroned by a burning candle. Blinded by the triumphant return of the birds of spring. Space and time are illiterate. Remembering the conversations I had as a child, with a coffin built for a young boy. Realizing I could fit in that box but couldn't figure out how the soul escapes.

Time rocks back around again . The long corridor of night is nowhere to be seen. I walk through morning cities, afternoon pubs, assassins and American oracles on my mind. A stiletto blonde cuts through the wind-whipped melting room. Dying man with multiple million cataracts says she's got an empire in her eyes. I sneer at the conspiracy of her presence. Made more to miss the lamb's benevolence.

(published in 2006 in Poet's Art)

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