“through the streets of anywhere”
I marked a page of this old book
because of a line that astounded me
to a bitter reconciliation
“…frozen like God’s head
holding an apple in the window”
it’s like murder in threefold
a million and one years have passed
by since memory
of blue chairs & linoleum
echoed as orange sliding
partitions pillowed my soul
I have forgotten as much as I knew
then ole Solitude Cowboy, buddy
o’ mine
you slip in and out of my fantasy
like the peerless gate you guard
I am not singular, nor dualistic
my heart’s phantoms have given
way to sincerer venues
I wonder, at this moment, what
St. Augustine thinks of being a blade
of grass
summer ends and debutantes
lose their tiaras
I want to be a Moorish Orpheus
wandering about in a golden robe
singing my song for you
a linear love dressed as a shield
somewhere in that long ago
brittle from the cold
bereft of delusion
the quiet empty monotone
steps in the snow
gladly welcomed me
not as a shadow of a ghost
or an addendum to failure
nor as a mystic pirate
loosed from the sea
as a gentleman in an unkind
time; bracing for a metaphoric
awakening, stunned,
to design a blind watchmaker’s
sonnet
October 15, 2007
Miami, FL
© 2007 woundedlordliterature
ШAMPO
No comments:
Post a Comment