Saturday, August 11, 2007


child’s panic
lifts the ban
pyres rise in streets
old books fly off shelves
asking when was the last time
strains of red painted balalaika encouraged ears

will change
everything must go
the old and new
onto the flames that reach
tear me away from my teeth
they are too sharp and want biting

echo from
balcony to balcony
a comet’s contour streaks
the sky turns vivid pale
fingers working nails to cretinous tasks
stop in mid scratch and are illumined

its light
dirt shines darkly
fingernails full of smut
awful doings collected and kept
hearts fed by dropper and needle
dark liquid that boils readily on sight

bright crescents
shining in eyes
through murky window glass
something beautiful will change us
make us hungry for coated tongues
desperate slurpings of beauty by parched throats

that add
more and stoke
fires that burn best
when fed by kindling thought
turn bright eyes to bright flames
and are confirmed there is beauty here

can stop
the slow progression
the crannys that wend
through brains turned deep south
teething on malice and generational fury
the fences form a yard and nothing more

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