Friday, February 03, 2012

Don't We All?

Delicate monster, hum in French.
I am resigned to the cliff shot
where the rabbit treads air
for what seems long enough to write
a text. There is no excuse for doom,
not in this instance with the sun
out of my mind with weather. I am
riddled with pauses, clean as can be.
Low and behold, wind chimes
look mild to the symphony of clangs
right outside my life. All I have to do
is lift myself up and suddenly
I sprout these gorgeous silver-feathered
wings. Like that would ever happen.
Like I give a fuck about flying, or wings. I am
dolled up like one of those dolls
in heritage workwear. A chambray monkey.
Okay, motion to the choir, I'm going
out for a stroll, I want the soundtrack
of a dozen voices singing me down Court Street.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Your choir is ready "52"
Very good!

5:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

and it only gets worse!

5:52 AM  
Blogger Todd Colby said...

no, it gets better!

11:42 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

gag-reflex & nausea.

7:32 AM  

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