Sunday, May 18, 2014

Zinc Skies

Molten thoughts disappear under the sidewalk
Where the pressure of progress tamps it all down
Something pulls a hamstring a comet unquenchable
A bundle of cracks like smiles in the ice
Your mouth pent up against the glass

When there is nothing left there is still there
Gazing into itself whence the fold or the crack
With the thumb of dawn poking out
And everything returns only intensified and wilder
If that is conceivable to lovers

Amazed by the stupid things that replace you
Somewhere beyond the last filling station
In the province of disappear
The withering honey of reality
The bride of the city one hand around your throat

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