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  • Richard Wilson Moss

    SongSoptok | 9/10/2014 |





    Rum


    From whose loins do angels come?
    I come from violent concoction of electricity and rain
    Like sugar cane
    Wrestled into rum.


    Immortality 


    Somehow death did not come
    And life triumphant
    Made more flowers and trees and animals
    And people and their gods
    That could not die
    And this crowd roamed
    The universe ferociously
    Having forgotten
    The love of life forever.


    Extinction



    Eventually we will take a long walk
    Through the final day of a bankrupt circus
    Where performers and performance disassemble.
    Clowns removing false grins,
    The fire eater rinsing his mouth out and spiting
    Into the sink where the bearded lady is shaving.
    Tent stakes pulled up with the aid of tired elephants
    Rolls of red and blue tickets thrown away
    Stainless steel stands folded and sold to local ball fields
    And as all gather and grieve of the last show forever
    Perhaps the last thing to come down
    Is the church of false image
    The hall of mirrors.
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