Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Solstice. Todd Preston.


The hard dark rubber night
    Is relentless
 And my bikes reflectors
  Like the gibbous moon
mean nothing

 Orange spirals
     For heat and coffee
 And today my alarm clock
             Is a fat naked black man
Dead center in the street
        Howling a version of joy
That I can't condemn

And we ransom the stars
       For baked bean suppers
They decorate the mud
     And simple clouds
Are their baffle

So I carved infinity
     In the side of a potato
Then rolled the root
      In black ink on gift paper

And the one thing
  We can count on
Is that it will
   get dark again.

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