Sextonics

OKay,
she said,
Now,
the deal

is,

she said
This
she said;

What
What was it
again?

Oh, yes,
she said,
the gyre,
she said,
the year
she said,
i was

Born

she said;

or

so they

tell

me,
she said;

born a

cohort

not a

concubine

WTF????

oh

oh

yes

oh

yes.

There are no

dogs

of memory;

dogs

have no
memory;

dogs

have only

heart

and

soul

and

pain;

ThreeHundred

               pairs

of pain;

cut

with scissors,
(Pinking Shears?)
a clean cruel

cut

that will not

count

when lights are
out and cries are
muffled and the

only

remembrance
is the silent, sorrowful

                               scratch

of a pen, a
purple

pen.

You know, but

YOU

do not

know;

the guardian carpets
that burn

amber

to

gold

to

umber

to

lilac

to

bronze

to

blue;

lost lost lost lost

LOST

until the

dogs

re

call,

re

mind,

re

mem

ber
that

PAIN

is

stars stars stars stars,

nothing

 but

stars, and only

One

Moon

and that
not even

Full

but

Half

‘til morning.

a

midst

the crunching light of
four

A.M.

when the

dogs

and the

lights

of Forever
move

 beyond

tomorrow, and meaning is
lost

to

Nana’s prying

fingers

and the hot brown
Hissssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
from which No

One

is spared.

oh, leave me

Not

in this purgatory of
punishment without

pain;

free me free me FREE

ME

from

My

Self.

© s rogers 19 july 2012-07-19

Thank you for letting me know you were here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s