Perspective

can you see the mountains for the clouds?
I look down on this rural painted valley
and cannot distinguish
oh I know the sight well
Mount Airy rising like a throne
above all else
solid and stoic, like a rook
signalling a new state
the land of barren beige roads
the ones that reflect the Sun
in continuous arcs, like rainbows
leading us to golden shores
King Airy — the guide to heaven’s door

     

         

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (written in Virginia a bit, mostly in North Carolina, on way to Florida.).

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Station

I couldn’t stretch it
it began furtively
the weasel of a creature
stitching disaster with a golden flare
dancing brushstrokes in the air
stepping lightly
flooding slow
a prick to welcome
boring deep within
each layer, each flaking level
it could be cruel
but I’m sure this isn’t new
I know the tracks
and paint the country with pleasure
still be the train, upon them all
useless and crumbling
but ever so mighty
bending light with each day
crowding this heaven-sent boundary
to a cradle beneath
somehow immersed in everything
so carbon me
make me realistic
drawn and painted and sung
compose me your morals
stand with posture perfect
gripping ledges
haphazard leaping
and suddenly —
you see it too

so change it all, and harbour no chain
abandon weight, for I can help you fly

   

      

Finished: 8:28 a.m., Wednesday, December 5th, 2007.