15 November 2008

14 nobyémbre 2008


the bone folder has taken spines
bones and the veins out of leaves
has taken the heartwood from trunks
the souls of blood-making cells
to leave them sickly     empty
as a crescent moon that cannot
hold water so it falls to earth

stains on the sidewalk and streets
the rust of deveined maple leaves
nose-bleed blood whether from fighting
too much pressure or whatever
spray-paint ed hearts red and blue
and the yellow numbers marking
depth of the gasline underfoot

tree branches     even skyscraper
steel cement and glass     have more
give     more built in flexibility
than our animal bones at any age
some snap easy as icicles
some bruise but never break
some rot within     fill with poison

the bone folder wants them all
for a few seconds on inattention
or the strains of overexertion
just a simple roll over in sleep
might be enough for the bone folder
to claim you as his own—till then
we can do nothing less than live

T: NBFC: 15 years of filmmaking, 1979-1994
loc: saturmoring desk
temp: 12 C
sound: John Prine Souvenirs

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