Wednesday, September 12, 2012



Woe assailed with a razored blade
The dark soul carbons its white edge

You ride the wheel in the backyard
Whadyathinkthatmeans, Bosque

Say nothing I don’t know in spades
Aces up your sleeve down your arm

I like to say what worries me
on days the wind blows the sun shines


Another story with no ending that begins. Tell that one. You have nothing else to do but pray. The Priest requests you confess your sins against the Church. God can take care of Himself and His Son has a room of His own: yes, His Everyman, name and all His pronouns incarnate in capitals. Washington, Paris, Madrid, Moscow, Berlin. Now there’s no Wall, the lady Merkel hoards her money until time to save the World from crashing and O! this lean- between-the-ears gent saddles You Tube’s horse, Moslems see him coming, Libya explodes, Cairo goes crazy, digital civilization is bemoaned, the moon’s misbegotten, so bright you can see the plains flooding from far off, the Saved raiding ships, pirates of the heart, the Everdamned.


I go see the land rise and fall
I have nothing to say today
I see you naked in my sleep
I am amazed you share my bed
I fan the nipples of your breasts
I kiss the lips between your thighs
I come through the door of this life
I go catch a boat downriver

(12 September 2012)

copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander

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