Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Alien Notes


alien notes

old suns, desolate breakfasts,
days turning on stiles, later
a trudge ending in a box
re-spelling obtuseness

words on words
soft as soufflĂ© he hardly tasted—
so he left grinding dust, seeking
flashes in the desert

why songs fly
to him now sneaking between dawn
and moaning, silences between
gaping eyes the dead leave on strings, he
draws answers from skies,
grumbling about bomb spores--
songs he plucks off storms
alien to his longings

on his waist solid
steel tips waiting to fly
this sentinel
of rock burrowing on sands
lets old suns free
on his guitar

Alegria Imperial

Posted over on Poets Against The War

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