Tuesday, December 23, 2008


I dive headfirst into the world
without worrying if I will
crack my head against the cement.

let red ribbons leak out,
climb towards the surface.

there are tiny cities in my chest, 
with rosy girls dimming 
their bedroom lights
one by one, 

arms outstretched 
from slender windows,
fingers frigid and white,

reaching out to find the core,
the point of emanation.

in waking dreams,
men in harnesses cling to shingles,
work to demolish a cupola

exposing the ribs of a great bell,
the hull of a boat that scratches the sky.

are there ghosts 
in our future?

are there stones glistening
in our heart-streams?


norm said...

the visuals in this poem nearly overwhelm me. what a fantastical picture you have painted.

Andrew said...

somedays I read this poem twice.