Saturday, October 2, 2010

Racing for the Sunrise under an Electric Moon

It is near dawn and I have just be shot out of a canon

A typical commute,

paying some Spaniard

for the right and privilege to drive 80 miles an hour through the heart of Dallas.

The tollways takes its toll as speeding commuters squirt out onto surface streets

like steel blood loss under sodium vapor lamps burning mercury.

I rose up 18 floors into the executioner’s song of a sunrise.

On the way to pour hot caffeine directly into my veins

I peer out through the fleeting dark at a jeweled city

rising from slumber.

Giant buildings eat people disgorged from buses

only to spit them out again when the day done.

***

Poppy Poetry

Texas Toast

Killing the Kitchen God

Angel Fire

Dictionary of Dreams

Queue the Sunset

Dusk Like a Dying Mirror

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