Friday, May 28, 2010

45*21

another Congolese angel
conjuring the light fantastic
from the myopic inward
the rain fell in bucket
upon the cathedral
windows open in December
stars illuminating the inside
but when we glow
the orange shade breaks dot dot
and more than not we'll watch
the celluloid is fed to the sprocket
the old man mews like a cow
he is more child than most
something of frost on the trees
we mellow with time
but will our interests ever grow the same
child minister
with a spinster in barn
the door flaps open with the wind
we never go anywhere
she says

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