Monday, March 11, 2013

NO PHANTOMS TO CHOOSE





No phantoms to chose between tonight,



Nor other egos



Which yesterday’s perspiring glass



Stained forever silver, silenced, even though I move,



Grimace or shriek, with or without the pious tablets



Pulsing me to sleep, black, locomotive-like,



Parallel to one night’s drawn blind death drowning,



Chest heavy, sharp, high-clawed to dawn



Solemn waked with sun, streaked, still soft





Amber anchored in the noises of the street,



Part distant, insistently today and not that last



Night’s courageous loss of instinct



Which did not let me die again.

(Clicking on images enlarges them.)

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