jesus smells me hanging
on
the front lawn
drinking
pink flamingos
he
can't say why I came
except
for the same free drinks
and
music, loud enough
not
to have to think
so
why would I want
to
be carry on baggage
tow-telling
stewards
my
inner most tale of woe
seeking
the soothe
and
wearing velvet of course
I
chase roll paper divinity
the
shiny armaments
in
green and red
with
a velvet lean
between
what burns
and
the fade to black
smudging
coal ash
with
the smell of linseed
I
gallop across stone
and
fields, clung to moisture
harboring
the scent of fire
under
a slow rain
ready
to surrender
in
the near hang of snow
awaiting
the call
of
another yule tide posse
and I go back to that baby jesus
with his lawn ornament crew
oh
yes I do, even if, to
bless
the mess that a nest can be
oh
yes, he still smells like a brew
more
than likely because I peed
on
him last night, feather craning
my
neck to drag the dead light
of
stars through the clouds
it
was warm yesterday
much
warmer than today
today
feels as if the cold
is
here to stay, though
considering
how prognosticating
the
weather is a much more
hopeless
cause than writing poetry
for
a living, who knows,
how
long the cold will stay
these
darkest sixty days
of
the year
here,
I am, all
northern
hemisphere weary
deciduous
forest bound, clearly
full
of the spine arms
reaching
with me
eyes
like baskets
that
are always hungry
for
what everyone has to give me
when
no one hasn't asked for
anything yet
how everything that can be, is wet
clay, I
say, did I make an impression
or
did I just make you forget
make
you question
was
I ever here
was
I just
a
lush linger or fear
was
I just
a
thought grabbing
hold
of feeling
turning toward
anything bright
with words and
a ceiling
I
commune with
early holiday decorations
the ones that go up
so soon after Thanksgiving
I
play their carols
in
my mind
I sing their all's well
I
play their games
I look for anointments
through
the wilds
through the sparkling
electrical
desires
of my own humanity
being written as a
brightness
seeking
some sort of meaning
strewn
over shrubbery and
conifers
in wavelengths and frequencies
untying the mathematics
that define all
the ways that seize
the things that please me
I
chose whiskey tonight and
am now staring into every one
of
those lights trying to find
the
ways inside time's constraints
where
wishes are fishes
and
the truest of lies
are nothing that's missing
when
I close my eyes
EJR
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