August 16, 2012

poem 272 of a poem a day for 2012

storms crept over stars in the middle of the night on the marquee

open arms for
carry over angels
crooked letter messiahs
street cornering with me
and the traffic light oarsmen
with their slung wares
of wanting all the what
and where of my humanity
and they have to know
how much is the cost of being
a dog in the window
that wants the lights back on

instantaneous mercy is
what I see as people
keep their hands
in their pockets
and their heads down
strolling on by the avenues
and cul-de-sacs filled with snooze
in their screened in porches
and the remaining bits
of solar tongued memory
struggling to keep
yesterday on the front burner
as thunder deepens itself known

desire is throwing up
from the wells of the sky
just beyond the horizon
raking a fury onto the broad leaf trees
bending them in the sudden downpour
of bucketed rain with long rumble hands
swaying the chaos of forked exits
marking you with destiny or dust
in the lightning shows
at the palladiums of rust
where every dream of mine
and maybe yours too is kept
to be played on with


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