Yearning for fulfillment of my desires and dreams—
The ones where I sit idly by
While rich cream clouds blot blue sky
And rip the atmosphere at naked seams—
I hurry to rage about, in patient glory,
Living an old man’s life in youth,
Worming out the black and green of Truth,
Yet living to tell a child’s story.
I want to break this mended poet's heart—
Making carbon of my bones in a spectacular fire—
Scarecrowing my soul, flesh passing along the wire,
Then standing finished to begin, and blazing to start.

11/11/2011

Posted on 11/11/2011
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