Monday, January 5, 2009

Perpetually almost-too-late
You realize
It must be my time to die
Or be reborn a colorful sign

My boyhood father
Naked in the 1960s
All poetry, no noise, no headaches

The yellows of memory, see,
Are easily sold:

PAST "No present! No future! Bare and Free!"

Squeezed into a thing
Yesterday's songbirds
Life support and
Murdering memory

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