August 14, 2012

poem 271 of a poem a day for 2012




the near blood taste in her mouth

drift tremble mystery
night is a cricket frequency
it is a tide
it pushes me
against the dark and
I lean back against it
laughing, palming the paint
lingering, squeezing the scent
of my humanity dissolving

all I taste is time wasted
in my exhales as I
long-trail-whisper
Goddess names
across the sky
I say them again and
again hoping the stars falling
can hear me, hoping
they can feel me wanting
the distance of skin and thought
to go away as I muffle
a scream into my shoulder
so that I don’t wake any one
on the street up in these
quiet velvet hours before Dawn

outside
America
is a hunted moment
of lightning bottled
a bloated 
cantankerous 
thirsty hoard
that is just 
waiting to be
wanted too

instead of cajoled
as a crumble fantasy
of blame someone else
on 24 hour news cycles
that sharpen its teeth
by dulling our sympathies
as we give our souls away
little by little
when we sleep
under the yellow sodium sorrow
of streetlight fantasies

we are all
the near ghosts
bleeding
on digital screens
in the machines
playing the anthem
of a land where
the melting pot
is a pipe dream and
taxes are for
the daily consumers
of an oh so much of
not wanting to see
this place
in the light of day

EJR ©

14 comments:

  1. A powerful and terrible beauty here, Edward

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    1. Grazie mille, bella donna, che dipinge, bella canzoni per il mondo per ascoltare...

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  2. outside
    America
    is a hunted moment
    of lightning bottled
    a bloated
    cantankerous
    thirsty hoard
    that is just
    waiting to be
    wanted too...what a wicked cool stanza...and really like your opening two lines....you do similar a stanza later with the three words...and i like...gives it a nice rhythm...

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    1. Thank You so very much for taking the time to read and respond ...I am honored...many blessings...kind sir...

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  3. A bit of the dark yet a touch of light doesn't remain, nicely done!

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  4. a crumble fantasy
    of blame someone else
    on 24 hour news cycles
    that sharpen its teeth
    by dulling our sympathies
    as we give our souls away
    little by little


    Just an endless onslaught on these shows--your poem moves from the very personal to more societal in a very interesting deliberate way - nice weave. k.

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    Replies
    1. Thank You for seeing the weave...Gratitude...Edward

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  5. I like the way this weaves and expands,and then comes back and then out again. Sometimes, I get lost in that kind of writing but you made it work. I stayed right there with you, loving the words.

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    Replies
    1. Thank You for listening to the drum beat here...I tend towards frenzy at times...but this, as you astutely observed...had the feel of an accordion membrane song, a modern look at life breathing, exhaling poems...much appreciated stopping by....blessings...Edward

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  6. Replies
    1. Thank You for taking the time to stop on by...much gratitude...Edward

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