Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Late Show

by Solomon

He makes his thrusts
He means to hurt
Wants to be in your debt

The unseen side of the moon
There he keeps his own hurt
Rising and waning faithfully
So that the sea will have its tides

He tells you about
Lightning striking the desert floor
In that place of skinny clouds
It’s the white sparking rage

Of God
So like a man
Slamming fist into wall
No one to talk to

Tight line for a mouth
Nothing slips out the trap
But in the dark he is a lotus
If only your eyes were open

So much happens when you sleep
The face of your beloved
Changes in the absolute dark
If only your fingers were awake

© Solomon

Listen to this poem:

Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

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