Litkicks Message Board Archive

It screams

Posted to Action Poetry




It screams, out loud, hyphenated, a pause, like reaching for a loved one whose walking backwards, away-it screams, a megaphone in a riot, defeated by the absence of birds and the voice of fire licking cheeks not quite here yet but already dreamed on sweaty yellow pillow cases therefore real, coming trains and bullets of matter-the breaking of brick, temples recycled into flower pots lining weather treated porches, colors to match the inside of pinesol’d furniture, to watch the water bead like sweat, the woods unnatural human response-it screams, screams me awake after fingers have already leveled the switch of electric sun, eyes closed to dream moonlight, the darkness where the faces appear, familiar company, the small house, stable shack of mind-and it calls me, to dig hands down in the sides of the mattress searching for a pen to write on anything available, to write in the dark on my forearm as long as I catch the words before they leave, the words. . .