deepundergroundpoetry.com

Red State

It is the same thing      
that lives here    
randomly fulfilling expectations    
     
in less reliable form      
     
though not as softly      
or hard to hear    
as painfully      
we try to cure its narrowness    
its tuberculosis    
with household tiger's blood    
and bowls of black cherries    
     
Were we faithful    
having some mark    
or implied claim      
to share in human delicacy    
     
The perpetual sounds of sensation    
that account for speech    
damaging our dreams    
our flesh    
our hidden tunnels to the surface    
     
This accumulation of dry rust    
that flakes into shadows    
like the smoky vapor of cities    
lingering in time    
     
How many thoughts can sustain    
the turbulent proof of language    
or the removal of tasteless amusement    
     
In the manufactured structure    
a paradise of the deceased    
argues for physical shape    
yet can never contain  
nor even acknowledge
willingly  
its most vital place
   
      
     
     
 
Written by BridgeBurner
Published | Edited 10th Apr 2024
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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