Tuesday, May 18, 2010

St. Pope John I

I open myself up and

all that’s inside is a song

you’d imagine your

guardian angel to sing

on-key. out of these

minor chords and dissonance--

I sound wrong. I have not been

tuned properly.

I am too old to be sneaking

out of my own house, but I

do it anyways.

the stairs creak below these toes.

no one emerges from dark bedrooms

to stop me.

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