Sunday, May 12, 2013

Whistling and Walking


When I walk I sing
the old songs and hope
the irrational
things they hope.

My walk through
the streets is a sequence of hopes
arranged like songs
compiled by my body.

My mad ghostly hopes are
lies neglecting time,
central tenant of hope,
wishes given pregnancy by songs
that came from years
when my stock of time was rich.

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