28 February 2011


Daffadowndilly 2/28

There are little fist-shaped buds on the ends of trees

On some date something happened – I dream about
guns at my head and wake in sweats every night

I pounded my fists on the pavement until they were raw
and my nails couldn’t catch fast enough – I have never
screamed so loud in my life

The buds will green and pink and be magnolia cherry
will be lilac soon enough the winter will be over

It goes like this :
            You walk in a dark neighborhood
            You are attacked from behind there could be knives
                        or guns but it’s fists to the temple and break
                        the sight and blood red stars in the vision and
                        here’s the money here’s the money here’s
            You take it like a man like a grown-up
            You never let them see you cry
            You do what you’re sposed ta – call the cops go to the
                        hospital and get yourself checked out for the
                        tidy sum of $2000 US and they pull on you and
                        feed you day old chicken salad
            You don’t call anyone and you get home so late
            You sleep for days and days and days and days
            You tell everyone you’re fine and that’s that

Little fists pushing against the cold – for space – rubbing
at the cosmos to jump-start the world

March comes in like a goddamn lion they say – February
doesn’t get any such sayings – it sits coldly in the corner
and collects the leftovers of the year before

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