Monday, April 11, 2011

Yellow Lines on Poetry.

Listening to poetry,
is listening to beauty.
It is watching someone steal
watching words trot and stretch about
hearing words make sounds,
hearing the laughter from the sound of a sob.
I see somber smiles
see thoughts i never finished thinking dance.
heartbeats and life in rhythm
noting the sound of fact and fiction
and their discrepancies.
I watch reaction,
watch people move each other,
and people become a temple-
devoted to the worship of art.
I am reaching down and picking up the double-meaning
spit by the mouth's of thieves.
If it were up to me,
I'd make them take a test on road rules,
before they gain poetic license.

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