Friday, May 16, 2008

STAY PUT (IN A FOREIGN LAND)

The dining room I’m in is very confusing
It’s a collection of coffee and spilled luck
That is, moon
The mystery of spoken words
The electrical outlets plus the holy appliances
I am standing on nothing at all
Variation of sweet bird
Con me mister, I’ll go south this winter
Until then, I promise to be a vessel
I will grow silent
In silence, we will reside
A churchy void with a cool draft
Place full of idols
Desperate symbols, redolent
Red wine carafes
Secret service representatives
The last Bulgarian Prince
His last Bulgarian ferret
Finalizers, people who live in a depot
“we might be homeless
but guys have a genius
we can’t do the regular world
we don’t want it”
That’s what Richard said
Then read a poem so good
It made me cry
I cry a lot
It’s a blessing
Gifts from orixas
Water, wave, and prayer
There’s also electricity
Colors, a resolution
Plaster over holes where mice came
Consider a large papier mache alligator
With an empty stomach
Worship
Then forget.

1 Comments:

At 12:14 AM, Anonymous Trista said...

Good post.

 

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