Sunday, August 21, 2011

From a Magic Slate


a hole in the wall,
the rip in the sky

both feet on the earth
one then the other

you were always here
or you were nowhere

I can’t read a rune
or write in rhyme

I know one who can
with a tongue like fire

the age is awash
with blood in the sand

men no longer live
with care for the world,

only a planet
talking to itself


humanity has
a hole in the head

dancing doesn’t make
rain without the clouds

seven months winter
summer to breathe in

you write up the dead
put down the living

who’s will-o’-the-wisp
in this bugbear’s game

will death take over
our daily errands

who would want to talk
without saying words

that must start somewhere
among galaxies


who was aware March
was the end of snow

and why were the roads
more treacherous then

and how do you drive
where skies fall straight down

heat stays in the house
if you pay the bill

be grateful good luck
is here when bad luck

turns the air to ice
and the storms go south

or revolve around
the village circle

while apparitions
keep specters at bay

(21 August 2011)

copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander

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