Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Prologue: Green Feathers
What's lost in the streets
without names and owners
eventually finds homes, cuddled
by the flames of loners.
Listen to those who search
for temporary treasure on the corners
where weight is exchanged for
that float into the pockets
of invisible street lovers dressed
in urban sweaters, stitched
with the letters of their real names.
Who you be?
Who can you be?
Sell more than lies
that were put in your palm. Search
for the truth like the man who keeps
asking for a refill of the juice
in his arm.
Full, until I am hungry again. Search
for nourishment that will fill
the linings of my stomach's soul for an entire lifetime,
or at least until the moment gets old.
Inner city mining, digging for punishment.
Do you feel me, how am I supposed to be felt?
Every time I write, live a line,
I wonder if I will tell it in the right way?
Can you hear it the same way I can hear it?
Echoing inside my rib cage, pulsating
down my fingertips. If I didn't write it.
it would never exist.
Fresh, like the dozen eggs just placed
on the shelf, waiting to be cracked open
to find what's in one's self.