Playful mortality, and the scream of death
Under stadium lights,
3rd block West
Clinton Street New Bedford
And mortality reigns with his eminent consort Time
Ever-gazing into the strict law of entrance into the beyond,
Beyond reclining chairs and horizontal graves
Broken under a gargled nose
Wheezing with the ancient slumber inside
The religious spirit aflame
Beneath a delicate skin of man
Braving the deforested aftermath of Assimilation
In the name of survivalist migration
After years of subconscious insubordination,
The doorway now flattened with the invincible family bond
Carrying our name and grown humor
Throughout the great Western crevasse of personal failure
and youth’s tempting
Flight beyond apathetic death over telephone wires,
Peering gaily into the psychedelic mist of seashore boyhood
American wisdom
To kneel at the ancestral cemetery
Bicycling towards entropic nirvanas
In bedrooms of Sanskrit and poetry,
“I will the disbelieving South!”
Down endless staircases
Unclenched at the banister of piano homesick news from video
tears
Fleeting, in the dark unlit drive home, past memory and name
To the creative watchfulness in the starry abode of love
With my married fortune,
To display with emotional care the meaning behind
relationship,
That ship that sailed into the thinning fog
Without lighthouse and with creaking mast
To the window’s song,
An inexorable life
Breathed on the backbone of Atlantic night
Before red sun morning overtakes
The superstitious ear of traditional music
In the final wake with an elder’s death
Gone to the incredible motion
Evading all sense
Yet still true
Death rings
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