May 12, 2014

Sunrise Up Front, Falling Back to Sleep to Shostakovich 14

now on the bed a body lays
side, three quarters,
legs akimbo, bent at knees,
arms stretched to adjacent pillow
body a swastika

morning seeps through louvered window

bones reveal
time passes
body whole deteriorates
flesh pulls away
fat and muscle groups their own republics
the flower doesn’t die as much as shift

Dimitri channels Mussorgsky, &
Lorca, Rilke, Apollinaire as chorus
no consolation of regal twilight . . .

falling back to sleep with the sun pouring in up front
reaching for the window, projecting to the other side,
waiting for the sun to declare mid-day,
the body breaks, not into shards

but into devolved, ungovernable cells
the lost promise of youth and laminar flow
to a bright communist future . . .

sleep doesn’t always arrive in twilight
“when we believe ourselves to be in the midst of our lives,
she dares to cry
inside us.”

edges reveal
no mercy, only relief
relief is temporary


Anonymous said...

Sunrise up front, poker in the rear.
-Jeff Davidson
Best to all you damn Waffles, wherever you roam...

Bill Zink said...


Best to you as well.

Jeff, hit me back with an email if you want to hear from Alex, Tony, or anyone else. Just leave it in a comment and I will pass it along (and no, I won't publish the comment).