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.

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Hanging On (2005)

I cannot say I’m pleased
repetition is, however, foreseeable
and I did not foresee
a failure on my part for feeling
the rudimentary error of my species
a mistake Mother Nature corrected with the others
and hoping
a moronic faux-pas in this century
if I collapse, you’ll understand
for I’ve forgotten what is new
and I’ll remember the old
all over again so it is once more fresh and disturbed

tiny speckled thoughts of random
tear me away into bliss
but sharp jabs in my side remind me
such cringing should be my guest
it heralds not impossibility
and speaks with the ancient eyes
so why do I feel so lost and helpless
when my stage continues to grow
and my crowd fights it out amongst themselves
this mantle is silent but near implosion
with albums of fear and hatred and ignorance
weighing down on the chance for sustainment
but bricks are strong
and though the weight is mighty
it keeps me afloat somehow
my worries only feelings
those rancid add-ons to our faulty line

Copyright L.M. 2007.