Poetry

Patrick Fleskes


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29 december 2011

Every Street, a History Whispered

All aboard,
Deafening tracks we’ll make,
The one’s silhouettes take an’ never,
Breathe back, wordy breathe of tenderness,
Never eyes of respect, I detect another white noise will,
Carry us, the sail,
This city, the port,
We’ll drink cuss an’ smoke the world dead in an instant,
Lose ourselves completely.
Vomit on the curb.          < As good of a symbolic message if any
Damn the medication.
                                We need a new sequence of rhyme,
                                                                                While we pick apart this pocket watch.
A looking, an’ a hootin,
Like that slow train-a-coming.
All relating and being of the essence.
Time.






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