Sunday, September 29, 2013

The Cocoon

Late night elation on a city street,
post feast and revelry in musical
entertainment in religion.

Underneath the trestle, the spirited
revilers throng... silenced
by the cocoons of human
bondage in sleep and death
with cans and wrappers of the day's existence
in snoring oblivion in a ragged blanket.

A street lamp on its side with no light
is the company they keep in safety.

Whose to say they are not the pupae
awaiting a schmetterling enlightenment?

Who will cast a stone of judgement at all?

Silenced, the reveling revilers are revealed.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Terror of the Oxblood Oxford Shoe

Laces woven but untied, dusty cords
like worms in dried silt.

The slow turn of a worn shoe.

What is this world of Dick, Jane, Sally said?

The sand packed dune fills the shoe
and spills in slow linear flow
over the back stitched line
of a well worn heel.

I tremor in fever of memory past.

My mother in mercy said,

"Shoo it away."