July 24, 2017

after our car broke down

 'The Nights Of The Cicadas'
alex andreyev ©

we spent the shards for immediacy, those regards 
then the nonchalance(s), ensconcements, inducements 
and slew of rents our heads were consumed with keeping 
the parts of us needed to be deemed sane, though 
what we did to live was laid out besides our insides  
side of the street, beat bones fleshy rhythms and exhales 
wheel spins, we lead, follow, experience through circumstance 
as need for reason dies and infant joy does indeed dance ...

we found these cicada ghost shells 
all along the alley 
as we walked home 
south of canal street 
with a rain 
just beginning 
to make 
our steps 
a little more 
aware of how 
where we are now 
wears us best 
laughing in baptisms 
and things we bleed 
to breathe with 



  1. where we are now
    is an important spot
    barefoot in the rain
    singing a poetic vow
    lyrics I had not forgot
    the sun will cometh again

    1. and how sweet the taste of wine
      in the rain when pouring off of you
      hands cupped, crawling, I am
      into and onto this wheel, we ride, again
      wet clay and the spin of the universe unseen
      stowaway children laughing so we never forget

    2. open your mouth taste the rain
      feel life pulsating in your veins
      molding our thoughts into words
      to the song of the mocking birds
      riding a magical spinning wheel
      layers of ourselves slowly peel
      once again dancing in syllables
      believing in dreams and miracles