January 1, 2013

felice, felice anno nuovo...

casking myself

angel barrel me
undivide my soul
in a series of irreverent
and serious cork
to whimsy follows
of directions
all the abigails
outside of glass
go to where these
former birds of feathers
are born into each
one of Earth’s 
thirteen flocks

we smell wild in the wine
limb drunk on the rose altars
we are fired into
heavy clay and
thick safes
in the walls
just behind
the picture frames
of fame and fortune
we have chased and
been foretold to expect

our behavior will be
shown in the halls
with all the ancestors
saying life happens
with Mona Lisa potency
painted on thick
with the entirety
of our human history
being dependant
on remembering
how to stay
in the right now
kissing and embracing
the placing of our heart
inside all the places
from which we bleed
posterity and spontaneity
to every deity
that receives us


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