Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Plus des Poems de Terre

Engine slips out of gear
...sputters and dies...
...no story line for my
...fantasy machine.
There will be no stars
...in the sky tonight
...no beautiful smiles
...or warm flesh, therefore...
...no sleep.

Was the gauntlet dropped if you didn’t notice it fall?
Should I pick it up if you don’t give a damn if I do?

We play the same game I play with my mother
Your childhood was worse until you confront her
And then, you’d better drop to your knees.
And beg for forgiveness from the Queen of Pain.

Blue and blue and more blue
You say the paint was on sale.
I toss my metaphor into the trash.
And drown in your skies and seas.

What is this magic that will happen
When he/she/it arrives?
Why is what has been impossible
For fifty years
Suddenly possible today?
What changed?
Not us.

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