|
Two Poems
by Gloria Keeley Tragedy Of A Run-On Once, a very long time ago I saw a lime-colored stop light sailing down the street its tracks trailing behind with glittering orange flames squirting out from the exhaust of Shakespeare’s forgotten lines onto the paper of some modern day junkie trying to spill his thoughts out on the workings of the beat of his brain expecting Schumann to put it to music and have it come bursting across the sounds waves into the ears of mock bird watchers waiting for the chirping yellow-tailed zap buffoon twinkling from branch to branch trying to undo each leaf that will meet the ground announcing the approaching autumn and hot trailing leaf collectors with bags of magnets picking up spotted leaves good enough to dunk into sodium sulfate changing them into something they’re not to encourage years of philosophical study to be reported in volumes of encyclopedias selling on the market for silver sand dollars after which will sit on the shelves never to be opened again until the will of the owner is read. The Hobo Ride The night railroad holds sleepers each with their own dreams the train in the rain whistles lonely on skinny rails rolling the canyons boxcars hold card games the flickering lanterns lend credence to the kings and queens corn stalks the land nests dry in the moonlight grass grows around baby birds beaks red from cherries fed by their mothers the early morning breeze ripples the fish-full pond the hobo rides the freight after tramping the yards the main line tunnel where souls are hidden spoon the smokestack veins indians set ears to ground sense the ancient rumble riding down the double E’s. |
|
