October 28, 2012

poem 407 of a poem a day for 2012




late squandered thermals

chance after chance
I roll with it
die-casting my lobotomy
into Id-ville's shining
depots of desire
I hear the train's
a-coming abundance
in patio furniture
resin molded
swank-analia
in curved bottoms
and rested swagger
holding me

I am wading
the daily handle
the numbers
the sequential chaos
hold all tickets please
there is an inquiry
into shirt sleeves
and rolled change
heavy copper
soft silver jangle
I beg cup to cup
with every act
of courage
I have trembled
away from

my watch is made
by Lazarus and
is held in synchronicity
with enchantment
and can last a year
for every grain of sand
I can carry cupped
in my hands
from high tides
and hope
to low tides
with nothing gathered
but poems and
the ghosts of radiation

EJR ©

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