Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The Inside Passage


Swim up the waiting home

with your brow and figure

and your will to kill

the priest, our king, proclaims

every generation

a new revolution following

the law of invention

the level dream of existence forgotten

what was said in a stagger

is not spoken of in the upright

until gravity returns

to the waiting,

all seeing



My hands are shaking

my luck is lifting

the gracious artillery saying

what is left is all this feeling

the defeated insignia

the ancient greeting

no thought of pissing, witness or meaning

our king arrives with robe-less erection

empty symbol, roaring, deafening

we were made in the image of freedom

rising bright, in this sacred moment


in a new century our poets are silent

annoyed by sticks and long lives difficult

monsters rich with opinion

and passing imposters laughing

surprised trading blind eyes among themselves

talking through halos

the dust of done hope

the questions of the patriot

long knowing the dying moment

the judgers of sunset and gentlemen

the moment of sun

a new way of life.


O you popes

you joyboys you dykeless rabbits

your trouble soon doubles

your better bitter laughter

some yellow-tooth sign

of indignant honor

where is the king who will

explain you these sirens?

where is the soldier who'll

guide you through?

Left unforgiven you

shirtless and peeping

their hats over faces

their hands to the west.


Richard Ewing said...

love the umbrella lady's body!
she's comfortable with it.
I am too.

Alice Andreini said...

love the first drawing...Look like my head feels sometime. Too much noise. Reminds me of Bill's Soul sweep entry this week.