Friday, July 13, 2007

The News

The air’s as fresh as a morning


when mushrooms bloom after rain.


Darkness expands to include the moon. They lower me


down and I am bound by the lies I told and


the things I stole from the ones who loved me.


My mouth is stuffed with black velvet. I don’t care.


It is as quiet and still as the bronze bell hanging


in the village church, ropes gone, congregation gone


home to google the news on yahoo.


In a Basra garage, men prep a chlorine tanker to drive


into a school crammed with the wonder of children.


While in the Pentagon, Joint Chiefs solicit bids for new


wars for peace. I hit bottom with a bump. The shaft


above me fills with dirt flying off shovels bright as armor.


I don’t care. I don’t care at all except I find


I still want to dazzle you, my old flame.

1 comment:

webbit said...

This is good poetry