Thursday, July 16, 2009

Nelson's Melody

it's all black out there tonight
not a star or a stray stop-out
to steer by
just thick black tarry night

that runs into you
pushes down your throat
fills you up with stiff ink
somewhere in this Nelson night

he's standing like Churchill
by a bus stop eating sardines
soaked in Brandy
flicking the old V sign

with his ghost arm
but no one can see any of this
through this murk
that has come down

we feel our history in braille tonight
unsighted sardines
saying nothing
our throats filled with pitch

with silent cannonades
with seawater
thick with dead songs
we raise our distal

proximal phalanges
in some skeletal shimmer
of ending defiance

nothing will be seen since


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