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| art by Cesar Moro © |
air
mail forgiveness and other follicle poet dangers of disappearing
a
kingdom of wings are moving
the
choir guns for hire
they
leaf through the trees
cycling
knees to palms down
kissing
the ground
because
the sky's too high
of
a limit for pent up desire
we've
just landed safely again
in
some one's pulp fiction arms
they
say passports please
and
remember the customs
of
the land when you disembark
the
disembodied voice chimes
in
through the intercom
to
pick up as many pieces
of
yourself, as you can
I
remember nothing
rummaging
through the things
I've
scattered from then to now
poems
here, laughter there
silly
phrases and angry words
when
I dared to let my guard down
I
no longer trust anyone
especially
myself
so
most days
I
keep my head bowed
and
I look for remnant stardust
in
the grass
to
explain to me
what
has happened
like
a newspaper
of
insanity and time
an
intertwined loosened gaze
of
my eyes squinting enough
to
drop letters through the slot
to
catch hold of meaning
even
if it is the fleeting fleecing
of
my dreams with my morality stuck
holding
everything past due
I
say to the white robed
god
of this land
you
can jail me
hold
me
indefinitely
allow
me to rot
as
if I were not meant
to
be spot on
marked
for good
I
wonder what that means anyway
as
I amble down the jet-way
wanting
to slip through to somewhere
the
quiet cannot hold me accountable
for
I am not wanting to go on
being
out of sync with the rest
of
this holy frenzy
masquerading
as humanity
adhering
myself like a stuck picture
of
construction paper
where
we once made
silhouetted
portraits
on
staged mechanics
little
outlines
of
what we wanted to be
when
we grew up
because
I still hope
no
one can see me
that no none knows
I
still keep my shirt on
something
besides assignment
or
two dimensions
biding
my time
waiting
for the glue to dry
EJR
©
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