Saturday, February 4, 2012
A blind flash and immediate thunder
Wake me into my dream
As I'm desperately doing ninety past ninety.
Under an orange peel sky,
The rain pours in silvers and blacks
Balancing refuge and revolution
Like blood balances life and death.
I drift around the panicked skeleton of a radio tower
In what felt to be as slow as sweat forming and cooling
The tires stick tossing me up
Off of my seat in a minor yet noticeable way
A concrete building to my right
Yields in valor as if honored
To show me the new lay of the land once home
To my memories that now fog the sky
Like poached prey
Bleeding under the teeth of apocalypse.