Friday, February 02, 2007

Autumn Ride

Animate the dead
black with a kick
or a pop, choke.
The dying year's wind
draws the jade from all arms
leaves pulled like jewels
from the white wrists of women
robbed & left red
for the morning & yellowed by rage
At least our flaming horizon suggests
in rushing past my shoulders.
The cold coming up
to join me in my clothes
my legs kept apart,
though the heat of the block
blisters each of my mistakes
And the pyres for summer smoke
casting sundown the flavor of hope -
adjoining to come & memories yet unmade.

Autumn ride I'll be crucified
nail my ankles to the bike
Autumn ride though I shiver inside
my thick fingers split wide.


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