leaning
into fractured fractal obscene arrangements
down
a steep embankment
carrying
a couple of pot plants
the
loose earth and twigs
and
fallen debris from trees
are
making the slide scratchy sounds
of
my bi-pedaled gravity
seems
as if a cliff
is
waiting, watching
the
joy and despair
of
running down the hill
to
find a sunny
arm-cradled
patch to garden
host
my little green nymphs
until
harvest time
I
could be hallucinating
but
that isn’t much different
than
my reality these days
I
have become a self pariah
with
no belief in a messiah
outside
the mirror-
mirror-on-the-wall
type
of
guiding laughter when I fall
so
I rest a bit
not
seeing what’s past
the
edge of oblivion
just
outside the Sun
waiting
for me to say
I
quit
maybe
my time
has
come
to
find the fallen
hallowed
grounds
I
must have some reason
I
keep reaching
for
something
I
can’t explain
it
would be too easy
to
just say I was
environmentally
caused this way
everyone
would expect that easy answer
the
easy explanation of chains
but
I know better
being
born in America
is
street gold no matter
where
you are in
this
capitalist food chain
so
while I might not ever
get
to know or see or hear
or
touch or smell why
I
strive to stay alive
despite
not feeling
worthy
enough
to
drink from this cup
I
was given
I
know to weave from
the
unknown music
I
steal to feel
I
am from the hive
I
know the tremble
that
is every heart
empty
of want enough
to
reap what we sow
like
the thunder tonight
feeding
from the heat
of
a long Summer’s day
the
rain is a thirsting sound
calling
on me to drink
a
long lost symphony
EJR
©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...