May 22, 2012

poem 163 of a poem a day for 2012



leaning against desire

I am sleep walking moral highways
the crumble concrete weeps
rust hides the choke
shallow graves shallow breath
each death another root vest spin
the gravity dial accretion spills my fingers
is a phone ringing in my ears again
in paced bleeding
raced needing thoughts
accordion lunged memories
don't try to stop though
they hold me still enough
to bind me with chains
broken and pieced with my ghosts
rattling their tight molecular rage
look for my reflection in the storefront glass
each step carriages past the cracks
in the walk, broken backs strung in chalk figurines
that the rain holds scuffling shuffling
duffel bag full slung over my shoulder
an entirety of things I carry
infinity free falls, little wet hopes
in the slag lint of my empty pockets
I jangle for sounds but still only want
to taste the rain and its whispered time
the cars pay me no mind tinted windows
no umbrella this poor fellow is under the weather
it seems and all the water does is
clock the mirrors in my eyes 
I keep boarding up my humanity for hurricanes
coming down to the street level for blowjobs
and collapsible destinies that seem a ripe scab to pick
fear mongering is alive in the narcolepsy news
that devises the fenced matter of classification
though I am sure as the cars keep going by
they can tell themselves
I must be mad
and just part of the rain
so why bother to smile
keep driving away from this simple yearn
find where a moment stops like a traffic light
and slow walk yourself in, make eye contact
with any driver you can
let them know in my step lean
shuffle step lean I mean to say hello there
how can you ignore the beauty of rain
I am standing tall here
when all I do is drive insanity further inside
to cry for more things I cannot carry
so I drink time emit rhyme and sink my teeth
into sweet scented flesh when I can
and pause long enough to know
I am lingering here with a purposeful tongue
and my hands beneath you lifting the tides
back into the clouds like I am
a gardener of the sky again

so I see stone faces looking out at me
crossing by your windshield
your blinders are on too
so you know you belong
you know how well the words of soul's song
can be found with desperate measures
and how you can never box desire
as much as scratch at its skin
and begin to see that every bleed tastes
of what you are raining too
huddling the constant new skin
in a blink's worth of time
though told by the smell of what's roasting
pushing soul can last forever
if you cup my bones
and wire me without an intention
or mention of reciprocity
or how difficult it is to bring lightning
to light-bulbs without someone profiting
from our diminished life expectancy
as if we need more mouths without limbs and
less aging and less insured cost
as reason keeps a neat black book
it shutters ideas
and strives to thrive
like worms do when we die
just to dare nature to become
another lawless art
in the rain

EJR ©

No comments:

Post a Comment