Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Your Urchin II

An erased mute disk stands in my doorway

Wistfully staring me down,

Hunger in its soul-less resolute of charade,

Thunder in the way it pronounced

The words that hang so seemingly in despair

Like a telegram lost halfway

In the change of times

A lost soul, an urchin by the name it goes by…

It has had its time. Time…to say goodbye.

I have had my time,

I have had my chance,

I have had my run

And my cold mary romance…

All that walking and

All that remains

Is the phobic walking

Far away from shuttered plans.

I pause; I breathe a wheeze of black breath,

I wipe my mouth and breathe again…

No noise this time, maybe a silent prayer

To the ghosts of me, shadows in the air.

The spray of pollution still hangs in there…

Like a frozen mile of crossroads to hell.

As I peer through the grime

To the hairpin curve


The urchin of mine

Cannot but laugh away…

In the distance of the portrait of illusions,

It smiles as it stands unmoving…

I take the pen and sign my own name

With the neurotic hand of the old beginnings,

I come back around the black smoke

To my old nerve endings…

Where lost time is but a tunnel

Of inane, blank euphoria!

Where my urchin does fade

Into violins and boxes of molded nostalgia.

And my urchin can be yours

If you promise to keep it good,

If you promise to let it stay...

Happy with its insane solitude.

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