The Sun Rises Above the Clouds from the Top of Cadilliac Mountain
green constellations

it may be time to speak
but when I think Iíve pinpointed words
they shake free from the wall

you carry a star in your left hand
and I leave it up to you to write
the next verse finding life

in a pot of daffodils    people walk
down the street in the same order
as yesterday   the noon bell triggers

a straightening of the back, a look
to the sky, a self-defeating cycle
because itís too damn bright to look up

letís all check into hotel rooms
and get our gods from infomercials
there will be a rogue guest

that notes the rainbows on oil puddles
in the parking lot, one who will
carry the sun on his back    between
being and non-being

your voice licks my ear


©2007 by PJ Nights

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