September 21, 2012

poem 336 of a poem a day for 2012

bending the Moon for wine

I put another quarter in
the jukebox signals
a pinball-ing of the ends
of my soul
portrays it as a feast
the table is set I say
ringing the dinner bell
and wiping my fingers
on my sleeve

the chalkboard sandwich sign
has a fresh new menu
skinny velvet in fat smiles
let’s gather I say
in crooked limb dances
let’s burn the dark
let’s seed what we like
and pocket sew
the bottle tops
let’s throw every lark we have
into the fires
and hark their cries
as if it were the music
of a late September evening

let’s turn our forks
to the road
let’s travel
to reach each door we find
let’s heavy knock and wait
let’s each of us tine pierce
our flesh to let go of the past
let’s know where the metal
in our soul is wanted
let’s raise our glasses
and turn our backs into asses
for the crows
to find our shiny regards
and let’s signal our empty
as a heavy part of time

let’s be the grasses
bending the heads
we’ve collected and
strung with bread-ties
and dried fishes
and the weight
of each of us
pushing into
the catacomb wombs
of Winter again

let’s sharpen our nails
and angle-lengthen the Sun
let’s careen each blade
let each word
we utter become
the skin stabbed
past our ribs
let’s carve through
the finger-tipped
yellowing maple leaves
let’s be somewhat
gingerly and thirsty
as we quiet step
a waiting on the wind

let’s be
the rain
of a hurricane
climbing from the seas
let’s remind ourselves why
Autumn guards
everything we bleed for
along the way
to where we are
home again


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