The Southern Cross,
the Drinking Gourd,
and the Milky Way
are all dancing tonight;
someone cut the wire
to the street light.
Words from the Jagged Edge of Truth
The Southern Cross,
the Drinking Gourd,
and the Milky Way
are all dancing tonight;
someone cut the wire
to the street light.
The dogs surround us,
fight over the bones left bare
by the preying vultures
who include only their own
at the table in this new home
where truth and goodness
are cheaply sold for a pot of porridge
and a calf of gold
that looks a lot like us.
And the planes fly high
in the light of the moon
across an uneven playing field
cast by beam-eyed businessmen
who be by greed consumed
and by women who call the shots
for the sake of the nation and all that;
the game goes on but the whistle
blows not for Camelot.
As the lamb to the slaughter
bowed east to the knife,
the money changed hands
in the den of thieves
and with a nod and a wink
and a coin for his life
the queer man was stoned;
and while we wore scarves
he died alone.
I was looking at the scaffold
of the gallows in the square of the town
as they paraded him down
past the gathered throng
with voices raised in a single song
as they placed his head in the noose
and watched to see
who would be the first
to spring the trapdoor.
Turbulent was the sky at night,
a churning mass of clouds
white and black, fighting
against the angry wind
across the face of the moon,
stripped naked
by the staccato light;
there is no one to calm
the coming storm.
Of Keats and Baxter
and a bright sky
of unnumbered poets
who ponder the heart
and the ways of love,
my intimate knowledge
is but a desert compared
to my learned friend
who knows their every word.
one
word
at
a
time
jagged
and
unfitting
stuttering
and
staggered
a
painful
dialogue
eventually
finds
an
unworthy
place
on
the
page.
Could I walk you through
the holes in the clouds
from which the yellow moon
throws shadows
across the front porch,
casts a refuge in cold silver,
and holds us in a moment
that has no end.
If I do not look at the moon
I shall not weep or pine
and nor shall I drown
in the great distance
that lies a wedge between us;
if I do not look at the complete moon,
the long night shall hold no sorrow.