If it gets sadder tell me in a poem
-for Marlene and Jackson and Ally and John
How do I know America is not
Jackson C Frank again
Going through this world
On fire
Horns of plenty and memories alternately
Burning and melting in the arms
Of archangels
Tears of flaming swords
Missing aloe leaves
Gold and silver droplets
Buffalo is cold in the snow
Every seventh day
On the calendar
Holding its breathe
Explosions coming anyway
Against the wall everybody gone
Build more bridges
Build less walls
Our backs burning like schoolchildren
And remembering
--Paul Koniecki
No comments:
Post a Comment