corona 20.
corona 20.
even the lawns are quiet
on the house next to the jesus house
a mermaid weathervane stretches her arm
to catch a pink star on a pole
that never stops swinging
at the bait and tackle a new hand
carved wooden plaque reads
IN LOVING MEMORY OF HERMAN MEYER
Always A Smile And A Ticket To Heaven
days are Sunday or Saturday
in between days
are trying to find a meeting
the brother’s gun loaded
with sugar and adrenaline
I write smoking a cigarette
blindfolded extinct among the scribes
does my spirit without fleshy gravity
rise or is this then an angel
in the stupid theory of angels
we ate thanksgiving in May
it felt like dying a little
I am an angel arm stretched
to catch a pink star on a pole
that never stops swinging
even the lawns are quiet
on the house next to the jesus house
a mermaid weathervane stretches her arm
to catch a pink star on a pole
that never stops swinging
at the bait and tackle a new hand
carved wooden plaque reads
IN LOVING MEMORY OF HERMAN MEYER
Always A Smile And A Ticket To Heaven
days are Sunday or Saturday
in between days
are trying to find a meeting
the brother’s gun loaded
with sugar and adrenaline
I write smoking a cigarette
blindfolded extinct among the scribes
does my spirit without fleshy gravity
rise or is this then an angel
in the stupid theory of angels
we ate thanksgiving in May
it felt like dying a little
I am an angel arm stretched
to catch a pink star on a pole
that never stops swinging
posted by Radish King at 2:03 PM
3 Comments:
Another page in the book. Another poem for the heart. Another news report of these strange and inbetween days.
(((((MaryMoon)))))
I see it all, so vivid in my mind, the languid grass, the pink star on the pole. Like a scene from a movie, a visual feast of one.
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