Poem: Penniless

 

Penniless

 

words as lanterns

looking for one honest ear.

the product of grief-weakened manners.

incensed quests.

 

just one sentence could take months,

only to get thieved by a cave swallow

nesting its ribbons of song under an overpass.

 

at best,

a murmurous, mellifluous sitar of touch

nestled against a nape.

 

but!

 

--to sail on skis of contrails,

above birds-of-paradise that nod to kiss in breeze,

if that might be what it takes

for drunks to look up from the jail cell of their drinks--

 

that all means nothing.

and yet the soul scrabbles after such unchained moments,

such unsullied joys,

such unbothered togethery-nesses,

so high above the truth of the fall.

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