July 2, 2012

poem 211 of a poem a day for 2012

re-doing the reincarnation lottery

dreaming in little lemonade stand vignettes
forgetting somehow the sonar of silence
never avails your greatest hits
in a record produced with the forgetful
magic production of denial of your sins
we dream to show the world every grand
glorious over the shoulder shot
of our ego’s ponderance
and other weighted slow-tided gravity
behind the glass

the sarcophagus parade
is made for wails
for shrieks that scratch
all the beneath-the-surfaces
finger crossing whistling
tombstone theory we learn
at the breakfast table
are we able to scale
these mountains in the dark
time after time
with tinder-torches waiting
wading through the carve
of all our names
bled to the wind
with tickets in hand


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