April 28, 2017

a parable of a broken man : .................................................. NaPoWriMo2017 #29

he held himself, a penny, pun, a jab jangled hope 
and confection in a paper sack 
he rubber chased shadows working 
angles for angels, dirty faced/ 

he knows there are 
no fleeting infinities 
in this story 
there is only hubris 
and the masks 
of monkeys 
and their kings 

he shines, smiles
shit filled  
insignificance ... 
you see we waste 
wear most gold is 
the silt and bend of rain between 
small potato size stones 
we otherwise pass on by 
walking calendars 
by river's sides 

the arc and line 
of tale is ugly stick-ed here, 
as poet pearl dives an allegorical 
and scatological poisoning of the cats 
the electrons are not there 
mirror near, fear of aging 
is where clarity is 
what you seek 

muddy visors, adds and subtracts 
the glad tidings basin is full of dried flowers 
eye once meant to perfume my stink 
room, womb and tomb with, for  
eve n a broken man wades 
poem bones for patterns 
today will always seek 
only to find, ghosts 
willing you 
what gets through 
to other sides 
of any me 
you held with 
hope and 
glue ...


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