Sunday, December 31, 2006

Green Blood

the trees explode silently


from sidewalks which undergird our unjournyings

like submissive poodles fat women wear at length.

exhaust perfumed and feeble leaved

they worship the darkness above our gummy paths

and dream of sidewalk less, arbor nirvanas

or facing Olympian storms without intermediaries.

the calling river sinews through buildings

not made by elephants or lived in by angels

and hurries to where not all of it can ever be at the same time

while a dead spirited teenager

hoping for lifetime elusive vindication

answers by crumbling into lung filled oblivion.

the crashing of thunder during Saturday afternoon baseball games

fries other fish

and yesterday's urgencies sing no songs for this tumbling journeyer

into the swirling substance of sorrowlessness.

a child at last.

these cities of man blink at the universe

with Edison eyes

and are rained on from sky heights of unconstructed electricity’s

which illuminate and frighten the animals below.