May 22, 2011

For my next trick I’ll prove I’m real
by pulling air from the air to push words
from a deep inside place. Marvel with me
the matter that chemically composes
these simple symphonies of uttered sounds.
This steady hum flickers like a faraway fire
unable to burn above the horzion that traps it.
Singing and scratching below a decibel’s cusp
it’s quiet compared to the guilded clamoring
we’ve been told settles the score daily, and nightly.
In a room somewhere you weight the sunset too
with hope attached to the heavy hooks of prayer,
curving the loitering spears of God’s authority
into trivial violet and magenta, as if everything
was always a wet sunset with orchestra
wafting through the neighbor’s thin walls
as we walk out the door to find each other.

LOCATION: Buenos Aires, Argentina – Getting ready to meet up with Mariana.

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