Friday, February 16, 2007

Trip Home

Traveling down, white peaked from an illuminated forest,

The car packed with every belonging,

The wealth of articles possess waving trees

Fading tinder hugs the roots strengthened from beneath

With scenery moves to rock, downhill shoots swiftly

The sun flashes from behind mourning particles,

Silt stirred by a stratagem of desert commerce

Darkness settles before the house is imagined,

Eyes open to trailing lights glimmering subtle stars

Replacing the black box sky

We Skid too quickly down the hill, out of forests, boulder cliffs;

The road always a constant black before us

The weight of one moving world due to frantic air

Of the auto built structure snapping shut behind us

As we spew corrosion out our flu-gas vents

Into open forgetful unforgiving silent inquisitions of

‘What, why and who lies in wait

and dies believing in actions so foolishly?’

My eyes are tearing open the face of the driver

Who is coming from a high to insanely tranquil planes-

The brush and sand enticing remembrance

In a refraction of my personage in glass

Coming to end in nonsense,

Undeveloped antiquity shocks us out of intrusive derelict witness

Grasping the long lion gate Corridors and hideous metal urgency of

A youth detention facility sleeping just outside of town

No comments: