Monday, June 13, 2011

Wandering the City Pondering Paul Blackburn

Land of no smiles
Hot tracks
Cold glass
(grey building     blue windows    grey sky)
Conveyance of minds
Through circles
Of a jewel
Cut from its center
Elegant but yet
We kvetch at the finite
Collapsing all around
In luminous flight
The small stories
The lower case i’s
Whose truths can only resolve to fictions
Before the new story    the truth
What the hell it’s time
Don’t you think?
Don’t the lies just weigh us down?
Do we really need them now
To feel complete, to feel
In this city of the mind
Geniuses are the casualties
It’s for warmth we tell these lies
For two hearts cannot touch without
But hearts
Do not know any words
That tumble like white wood
Fueling ash
False the anger words
False the lust words
False the grieving words
False the words of fear
The material
Will only bend so far
To feel the novelty
Of being right
(in the dark lord Wizard’s bag)
The universe will only open
If I close the cabinet drawer
And leave my keys flat on the table
The limitless and how it’s limited
By word’s protective services
When walls walls walls walls walls
Around a heart
Can never speak
Isn’t it time
Don’t you think
To not automatically say no
To something that’s approaching?
This world is dying
This world where minds can kill
Where thoughts divide
Like cells
Where minds have fire
And win by burning
(Asian honks at Arab honks at Jew)
Time for meaning
To reside again in silence
In doing nothing
I hear it breathing
A torn and flattened city coughs
Even the sleeping
Prophet on the cardboard mat
Snores away that sound
As voices circle like tornados on the ground
There’s something waiting for us past the gasp
Let us breathe in