Sunday, September 2, 2012

Before the Antique Milky Way Vanishes




Before the Antique Milky Way Vanishes

Now light years into my anecdotage,
the path is confected from the breath of angels...
off-season ghosts in Old West towns,
moonlight on tea cups in shuttered souvenir shops.

Somewhere a man cardiac-lurches from his gas mower,
leaves window light to glare on crystal-green grass.
Somewhere a woman stares up at a hoaxy smile
on a billboard, pleased with stolen motel towels.

Hubble will soon teach us we live on a mirror-flat
heart-shaped cosmos, dotted with full lipsticked lips...
frigid kisses here and hotter-'n-fire kisses there.
My spastic throwing hand grips eternity's doorknob.

Bourbon night, heaven-gallop stardust horses!





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