Posted by Atticus on December 5, 2005, at 13:04:42
I wandered down the New York streets
Paved with hot burnt and blackened bones,
I heard mighty cell phone idols
Whisper secret sacred ring tones,
I saw white-faced heartbroken mimes,
Each caressed an unseen cheekbone,
I shivered at phantom whispers
Of every lover I’d ever known.Sometimes the signs just pour down
In something pure as heaven’s rain,
Strike the circus tents and feed the clowns,
Time to head out on the road again.I broke bread with switchblade poets
Who etched verse in flesh-and-bone tomes,
I drank with seven sad horsemen
Whom seven horses had all thrown,
I bargained with a sidewalk vendor
For Merlin’s philosopher’s stone,
I squinted as pitch black storm clouds
Curled like waves of cancerous foam.Sometimes the signs just pour down
In something pure as heaven’s rain,
Strike the circus tents and feed the clowns,
Time to head out on the road again.I gazed on cardboard-box castles
Where fallen angels made their homes,
I stood silent in Times Square’s glare
As the city’s prophets were stoned,
I joined crowds of long-lost pilgrims
But I never felt so alone,
I met Van Gogh on 46th
And we set off for parts unknown.Sometimes the signs just pour down
In something pure as heaven’s rain,
Strike the circus tents and feed the clowns,
Time to head out on the road again.
poster:Atticus
thread:585734
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20051205/msgs/585734.html