I mend wounds in the broken asphalt...

image from a 1977 performance of 'Blaubart'
choreographed by Pina Bausch

I mend wounds in the broken asphalt 


in the walls 
I am listening 
for the crickets
trumpets and cadavers 
after dark
what matters is lathering 
my attention with heartlessness
this way no body 
I inherit
can outrun the words
tomes and loam(s)
guarding the gates
all I have to do 
is the Antigone 
with a sharp stick
my nose will see me through

each poem has intention
did I mention, modernity
imprisons the mind...?
so mostly
I play patterns 
as jail break songs 
singing and dancing 
to myself 
that shadows 
do belong here 
so very near 
where light fades 

EJR ©