The devil is in the detail,
in the teeth of violent dreams,
revealed in photospasms of the past,
of departures laden with lazy promise.
Do you remember strawberry fields?
Lines like lies crossing tees
& dotting eyes,
lost in a visceral ineptitude,
sending sonar pulses through
a darkened history.
We are the soldiers in Sgt. Pepper’s band,
cursing the silence in
between the songs,
dancing in a frantic haze &
boom boom ricochet,
paying prayer for a
slow motion replay.
Published in Rabbit Poetry Journal, Issue 4, May 2012