Ten Days Late

1995

Dusty days, of p.m.t., in
coal-dark syndrome:
Driving hell, in snack
sandwich, of concrete-femme.
A school-boy dream;
Like any centrifuge, or maelstrom.
Is not complete.
Or any furtherance the
heat will be...
                ...Potato supper,
And a fresh day's grumbles..
Will I present stoning be?
..And so all cloudswept,
Touching vulnerate, in peaceable
Forlorn.
        ..All romping sufferers.
Died to present life, within
The touch, of Spirit,
To grin....
       A broken arrow, stuck,
In moondart recompense....
                   ...Friending sorrow,
In broke victim; dependant fool: a
penitent
survivor,
to gold's value!
..Seeks release,
  from barriered mind,
all swirling, not
condoned..
A death by misadventure.
Voided in a passing I-re-
Lord,..I need your presence.
Like to a memory, that
ever current...
               ..For shoe-to-stair,
A wounded rabbit: Affection;
In a glimpse of equality...
Yet me without wisdom.
Relying on innate.
Intelligence, and wing for prayer.
The gash lies open:   Wounded fold.
The sunset-extra,
Lumbering, to a tender
Hold...

       ...Such evenings,
When I lack it...?

                                           jimtom ...say..?