Month: July 2014

six strings and a noose

it’s already ashes

this thing you

conjured

in that same bedroom,

you know,

the one your mother

picked out for you

during the Ike years.

 

it’s already ashes

this thing

that kept

six strings in one hand

and

your own noose

in the other.

 

it’s already ashes,

the wraith

that made you think

you were

anointed among us

while your sight itself

receded,

while the years you waited

propelled hair

from your ears

and

moth-bit

all your

cleverly-black

clothes.

 

Yes,

it’s already ashes,

that which you

burned offerings for,

only the flames leapt

just enough to blight your eyes,

and the god you chose

never could quite

decipher the smoke.

 

Look, for your sake, I hope there’s no life after death.

 

You would only fail in that one as well.

they didn’t mention it’d be always

the bushwick streets
shimmer
like the bounty
of a
strike anywhere
match
and there’s a
fusion sweat
pulsing out of
hydrants and posts,
you know,
the old ones
forged in old days
of pig iron
and
something deeper,
maybe.

a great stuffed bear
lingers on
a corner,
baking,
holding a case of Corona
in one matted paw,
a pack of Newports
in the other.

He’s got the right idea

and inwardly I
share a laugh with his heart
which no physics will deter me
from believing in.

To my right,
a towering
housing development
flexes
above all,
and up top
the black scarring spraypaint
says

Winter is coming.

And I don’t doubt it,

though I do wonder

who’ll be the ones

to catch cold.