From on High
who threw us from on high as if through Dante's nine? spiralling towards stagnant water still with a stillness crystalline to land with symmetry's radiating plop ripples rippling in the murky depths missed then hushed once more as if never did exist Ah, who lost us in carelessness --the owners might not greater than the owned one's plight-- and cast us into failed flight? down through the clouds down through the trees like a penny flipped from the thumb of an urban myth through a Volvo through cement or, rather, like Icarus soaring through outer spheres only to land on an a icy plane look how soon the twigs begin become branches, then more twigs again now so far where once so near once fearless now full of fear angels become the tiniest of the most delicate moth
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The Rattle Tank
the rattle tank doesn't slow 'till just out of reach so that never does one know if he'll be invited to breach the portal and take a seat and dine on the grind and view the streaked dark and void of night one eye watching the cyclop's eye staring back with distorted sight the other on a demon driver eager to have our souls before the dawn though our errors grave, our sins not of the mortal kind so that Yahwey with cocker's borrowed brow wrought and disposition serves us well if we not him and secures our passage till the end best works divergence on high school boys choosing a jackass and a cynic from the land of steady habits over the tired ways of old from oppression and rules run at break-neck speed to the coast where the silver screen tells a truer story but not for tired old men watching a dead deal done assured by experience and hard work that neither this path nor that grown up or worn holds the key if my love for you has split my heart and creased my mind it has not yet dissected me down the middle that one leg goes hither and one thither. not to the soothsayer's spin listen, nor heros--it's no use they sold their wares too cheaply held up and celebrated for what they never said egotists and assholes, power mongers and psychopaths line the path less traveled while the rest trudge along in single file wait to hear the next lie or as hermits do hide from all enemies |
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August 2016
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