December 7, 2012

poem 445 of a poem a day for 2012

supple Victorian with my cask and cot

sealed in frenzy
catching lead filled shots
pre-natal divine
post-natal grind
skinned chemical blame
racing to the stellar
landing spots
the cold storage
of time
a bottle message
tiding vapor
humanity haunting 
its amniotic sanctuaries
trapping its cardinal 
dust at dawn
every calendar 
recording, in near 
hydrocarbon rust
and cake ash

the party
is backwards
birthday-ing a coffin
to cradle ring
bells beyond glass
say, may we have
another couple of shots
we won’t forget to
sever clever for stuck
inside each sentence wall
here’s all the good parts
blended past recognition
crane your neck
and wish there weren’t
so many of us
clamoring to be heard
above the three
dominant dimensions
their curtains pulling
velvet and wool tight
into midnight’s
frozen cling

are you all right
I say, to drive
with another couple of shots
they’re on their way
aged barrel rolled                                                                    
like most of us
so, here’s a toast
to the ghost
on the ready
in all of us
just like
rattling chains
for Tiny Tim


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