Utterances in the city
postmark letters sent by leaves
drown in a sea of wind, and shafts of
daylight--cold tongues speaking,
about the death of the world
and I, the beggar in me
full of hopes (caffeine courage
if it were any good.)
stood, rubbing the consciousness back into
my skin like ointment, through wool and obscure
fibers. As the fear of frost intrudes upon my time
the day cascades into a nightfall,
and I fall asleep to the sound of words
on park benches--
oblivious to this benison god
has sewn into my spirit;
to bestow the covenant, to be
exalted above the concrete, but
damned below the lights of the city...
making this toy halo useless for the streets.
*Not too enamored with the title, but I'll work on that at a later date.