Monday, March 16, 2009

poems...invariable tunes...fortune de excel prog


Mr Obama,
We didn't come all this way
to be cautious and reasonable
we aren't here at the gate
waiting for things to go back to where they were
we're not content to have
wiser counsels prevail
nor will we stand in line quietly for soup
nor for order's congealed restoration

The middle road
lies under the waters of Lake Ponchartrain
the prison walls are breathing
like the ribs of an awakening giant

Mr Obama, look out! Look out!
The children are raising up their heads
they haven't learned the necessary lesson -
to give up hope
It takes time to give up hope
they feel our planet shrink

It is pretty
It glints in the light
Just like soap powder
Cocaine is pretty, clean
It glints in the
Light, light, light

Cocaine has ugly cousins
They feed on the unloved
Feast on the desperate
Showing them in a pretty, pretty
Cracked happiness

Punish, punish the unloved
Lock them in soap boxes
Chain morally superior stones to their ankles
Banish them from the light
Light, light, light
Unjust like…

Your face ripples to mind
to pleasure me
and out again

an image lost
only to splash onto my page of work
clear as a beached shell

I listen down to low tide
hoping to hear your breath

but its softness drowns
in the warning cry of a starboard buoy
lurching on the bars of waves
stretched across the sound.

Each breaker’s damp white hem
pillowed by the rocks
echoes the whisper of my voice
saying your name.

I am broken
hold me
press your healing hands
on my sorrows

I am lost
show my limbs and organs
to their proper place

My body is torn by dogs in the desert
whistle them away:
allow my orderly decomposition

into foliage
careless abundant vegetation

I need rest
I need only to be water

Rock me, rock me
without your minerals
I am ice.

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