June 7, 2012

poem 181 of a poem a day for 2012

my institution of destitute by the shore

I am standing
on the corner
passing time
in an endless
cradle of chaos
my strings are intentions
and mentions in neon
are aggregate sea kelp
swaying masses of freewill
they are part of a collective
conscious caravan perhaps

in every bill-boarded space
there are negative connotations
pressing into us about anything
that overrides the status quo
so we know almost always
which row that is to hoe
this fourth estate
most of us, in private
will acknowledge
is on life support
and by now has become
more careful razor
than trumpet at best

and as I undress
the rest of my lean
under the yellow sodium sorrow
of street-light and haze
my silhouette catches
a glimpse of what fire
in my belly can do for my soul
when I can reach beyond full
on through to
the glory of empty


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