poetry from the mind of insanity
“fiddy cent… anybuddy got fiddy cent?”
the man smiled as he made his request of
the midmorning weekend walkers,
his teeth almost glowing white
against the charcoal of his skin.
he sat on an overturned plastic bucket
in front of the overpriced supermarket,
his baritone voice rumbled through the street
like the over blown reed of a saxophone.
he bore the aura of peace –
not that peace which the world cannot give,
but the peace of one who knows his place in the world
and has accepted it.
i am spiraling shadow.
my insubstantial spirit,
dark as my sin,
lives its half-life
restless amidst unending night.
the brightness of
so blue day is an affront:
every beam of sunlight
is a finger of accusation
reminding me of the evil
inherent in my life’s choices.
the beautiful people
are my judge and my jury.
riding past the city bone yard,
looking longingly at the necropolis,
i envy the blessed, happy dead –
oh sweet mother earth, would that i might
already return my rented clay to you;
relinquish my ransomed moisture
to the sea and the sky.
A Thousand Sunrises
however dark the night of all my days,
each day is filled with a thousand little sunrises:
a one legged pigeon that finds a morsel of food
on a filthy city street, sipping oil stained water,
and goes on living yet one more precious day.
a pregnant woman pushing a tandem stroller,
a look of deep contentment as she speaks with her husband
over the phone,
the laughter of children coming home from school,
the way my lady walks when she is walking that special way,
an elderly couple walking hand in hand
as in love as if they were high school sweethearts
a thousand little sunrises a day
and in those little moments
my darkness goes
and i still want to breathe the air.
6. October, 2007