Wednesday, December 19, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and NINETY NINE

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

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