April 20, 2021

she had orchestral fingers... #NaPoWriMo Day 20

„The Juggler of the Apocalypse“ Michael Hutter © 




slate roof hoof spill 
street lathed 
bad Sun acolytes 
we daggered in sin 
apple bobbing October 
even when April 

more role pun play, say things 
we want to eat desire 
burning fingers on plates 
we grab hold seated at 
childhood stretched out 
we pocket hope for luck 
before assigning 
any resignation 
to a canvas 
inside the great songs 
we knew 
we wanted to... 
we wanted too 
we knew 
we knew 
we knew 


atop the tribute table 
your ordinals 
were cardinal scribed 
an open window-ed poem 
moonlight, wolves howling 
membrane thin crescent glide 

you said 
I am I am I am 
reposed and 
covered in nasturtium 
orchid hues 
candle light 
when mood is right 

walk around me 
 my table 
my sentient hunger 
my ripe, my rain 
my pour, my reign 
skin to tide 
stand high 
seed spill 
fare dare 
bare bite into me first 
bending low 
every chariot 
wants to be on fire 
pulse and grind 
hips to the rind 

you arrive 
with a hearty laugh 
bell tone and prayers 
the wicked give 
your best conducted poem 

"start the bell 
my maestro darling 
we are digging in 
to Life here loved 
a once ago..."


EJR © 







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