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Blue Clocked Sun

Appeared in the Fall 2004 issue.

for Vincent and the other dead

Vincent, you’ve said this skin is a death,
a bark storm bone-glue voodoo.
Would you fly against bone cratered moon,
away from field, crow, spider and poetry?

Would you sleep in turtle seas flight,
in finch shattered blue-clucked sun?
If it is a drowning crime to conceal
bird and blood, a crippled child
beneath crutching brick mortar,

would you reverse the burning mask,
paper mouthed black birds swimming
red to migraine-paint electric eyes?

And how would we fly? Naked and eating
green apple words on chipped horse sculptures,
riding thumb altered conversions of death?
Dangle-limbed through corpse orchards,
on glass edges of dancing dead night?

Then, I will fly, Vincent, as bird rain,
and remove the bloody cotton from your eyes.

View bio information and additional poems published in Half Drunk Muse on the author's main archive page.

Copyright 1999-2008 Michael Ladanyi.