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

EJR ©