November 25, 2012

poem 430 of a poem a day for 2012

in November’s Sears Roebuck

scattering bites against my bare skin
the wind digs in and reveals
just how raw I am
when long nights come
casting thoughts
candying jars
wax sealing and waiting
for that one moment
desire turns me loose
pointing out the bridge
from thin air to warm hands
reaching with bent knuckles
preaching subtle to brute force and
the application of free will

outside my small window 
tiny flurries carve a brief chaos
onto the ghost grey asphalt
squeezing the warmth
of rubber tires 
meeting need and road
the consumption 
of plastic embryos
is in the whirring 
these installment plans 
these constitutional humanities
these paper waved hollow emotions
are where sounds go 
they are something
I used to make freely
when I didn't kiss
so many rings
inside every corral
I close my eyes now 
to smell the way 
things have become 
about time

any right now
even this one
is only the exact moment
that an idea 
like the wind 
can bite you
the true keys to being
outside the body’s constraints
are in the kites and
they have been relegated
to every slight-of-hand and 
subsequent parlor trick 
methodology of faith

and they can only be
circumvented by 
a mind’s eye
they are only
what you can 
still capture
lying down 
behind bars
next to a table
piled high
with catalogs 
of distraction
coupons for every
body part
you may 
still have
that can move
a dream


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