Saturday, August 24, 2019

Aftermaths, Authentic or Imagined

1.  Discontinuous, Repetitious, Unfinished

Missed my exit, not sure where,
But now I am a phantom
Flying Dutchman of far roads
And mountain byways,

An apparently parked car
Glowing from inside,
Opera lights haloing
The sole occupant’s bent head.

I look like I could be dead,
But should’s not the same as could,
And I can’t. Ghosts are breathing

Bodies that overshot fate,
Missed their turn, misread the map,
Not quite there, no turning back.

2. He Knew As He Prayed That He Did Not Believe

The day the ordinary
Perishes, the day
Ordinary power breaks,

I will make a piece of toast
And butter it, and chew it
Thoughtfully as I observe

The extraordinary lift
Its formerly captive head
And cross the little plank bridge,

As I listen to the sounds
Of a dull world terrified.

It will not be my triumph.
It might be my disaster.

But it will satisfy me.

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