Wednesday Writing Vol. 3

If I only had a decoder ring,
I would walk the streets all Ouija
Telling people "yes" and "no" and 
Spelling out names of the dead.
It would be fantastic, a big day. 
The expansive glow will light my eye
Until all around is quiet, until I am just an orb.
And I would float. Yes, float to a freedom 
That doesn't require hanging. Like my blouse, or a belt
Fastened tightly to a hook on the ceiling.


So much of my life is spent in an odd sheltered tent

Half-patched holes in the tapered roof leak 

Raindrops over my eyes.

Until I close them, only to reopen quickly after the 

Visions that crop up like old burial hymns

Sang by protestant preachers, bow-ties an inch short. 

My life an inch short, halting a growth 

That perpetuates that deep within sadness 

Of an unkempt life.


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