Like eyes, closing dawn with rolling
credits feels like the birds never
sleep, but go on like water eating
the present out of crystal Syracuse
and all; the flames are
different this morning: blocky,

impounded, like cigarettes, stinging
whips of smoke that circle the cat
stiff with warm regard. I lift night
from the streets and from the
aspiration of pavement, just so you,
worried I might accidentally shut
the alarm off on the clock, can tick

my hope off on a round nomadic pitch.
It looks like this code travelled well into
the unbearable, rebelling against a logic
that keeps those in power who have
already paid their taxes, and fail

the silky veins of transubstantiation;
or fade along the railings like
a memory of smoke.

2003/03/13 05:57:07


=====


http://www.lewislacook.com/
NEW! Fort! Da! http://www.lewislacook.com/FortDa
ARCADIA: long poem serialized in the muse apprentice guild: http://www.muse-apprentice-guild.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html


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