it was wednesday
& the wagtail blues
& bebop doos
fell like porcelain
from an angel’s wings
hipster crooners
who clung to rags
like oxygen needles
danced on glass feet
stomping at the gin bar
& smoking leaves
of fortitude stripped
from a sandbox of lies
we waited for a taxi
while the moon bled jazz
over the new york sidewalk
insects laughed
at the show
mingling with saxophones
of stone
& now?
do you do do the new move
cloaked in ageless slipstreams
in the rat tat of hep cat culture
does your coffee pour whiskey
into your mind’s cool blue fixtures
when your pen punctures pages
& when will you rest?
& is this a test?
historic light unsheathed
like a blade
to cut your arms
spill the blood
of fathers
like your blood
will be spilled by your sons
& what of your sons
do they float in spoons
in precious powder
crushed from the dragon’s bone
the flame licks the steel
orange blue lights appeal
flick flickering images
in rolled eyes of
tangelo tint
when the spike pushes in
what does it take out?
Published in The Diamond & the Thief (Black Rider Press), September 2010
Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017
An audio recording of this poem (with The Minordian) can be found here…
