Sunday, August 21, 2011

Joe Marchia: Four Poems


certain things break my heart
like strings and wires strained and pulled
and cut and torn and worn until
it cannot hold the beating beast
and cracks in two for every piece
it breaks apart no longer full.

Holy, Holy:

From the clouds
the storm will pour
the sound of silent
rain on roofs

In one holy eye
the droplets form
a perfect thought
and to my ears

The noise fills
me with so much love:
the drumming sound.

A Dream:

a dream it always
wraps itself around the eyes
when we are still

and silence sits
with company
and acquaints itself with waking words

We are just between the past
and future always moving,
even sleeping
even dreaming
even waking
ever moving.

My life creeps like a shadow
on a funeral pyre.

Dancing, howling
'til Anubis awakes

and lays me down
gentle in gold.

He asks if the dead tire.

Joe Marchia has been published in Instigatorzine, The Beatnik and Milk and Sugar Lit.

No comments: