Home is
where you are
chipping the stone
to grave applause
a look in the eyes
when the lights go down
awake to
crouching
(sure)
~the stars are not right
for a place
in.between
dilated paranoia,
a mawkish glass
for snorting past
with a blunting bite
as fingertips
crawl on storms
with a ~click
in the night…
a quick blue fire
from Zippo & flesh
within the heat
of a ~~menthol slide:
a cherry-flavored
tongue to throat
for lovesick ash
numb of heart
and heavy of mind:
popping sparks
of hope & high
{gazing glass
of streetlamp eyes}
chip the stone
at crouching dawn
waking from a
wayward soul
~home is
where I am
gettin’ mine.
Rating Pending
Gaze of Glass
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Summary:
Old poem from 2013-2014. One of my better short pieces.
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This gives me the scene of a poet upon a stage, reciting their words to an eager crowd. I have a feeling that reciting it makes it stronger. A voice that knows where the bullets go.
Strong write. Awesomely done.