Thursday, December 14, 2017

Thin, Yellow Line- Another Poemy Thang

Thin, Yellow Line

It’s a shift worth mentioning, when the mind sees the end
of a line of code and it makes as much sense as the
process it took to get there,
an alarm ought to sound somewhere-
just anywhere, anywhere
so that songwriters can begin a suitable eulogy
for all bluebirds lost in flight and
spiders pinned wriggling to the wall,
every hopeful decision come to and sent packing like a vagrant
camped by a church.

In a sign worth noticing, my threat has constricted
and my voice subsumed to the process of keening for the
bruises and death it took to get here,
the alarm still blaring like a car alarm in a mail parking lot
so that marketers, whose ignorance is complete, have a campaign
keeping broadcasts lit and telephones ringing and pinging
all mindful creatures pinned and wriggling on the wall
so that most every prudent decision is parsed for inclusion in a blueprint
and used by exclusive accountants and schoolhouse administrator.

I know you’ve a party to attend, my dear,
and the evening is drawing to an inevitable conclusion we’ve seen
for longer than the earth’s been deep in grief from the game-
revel in this hot, thin soup
because we have a date to keep,
a pleasure and a trenchant vision retinal and long-abandoned
by real estate agents, politicians, administrators, and profiteers-
blessed are the meek and the peacemakers, once again.





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