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  • RICHARD WILSON MOSS

    SongSoptok | 2/10/2015 |




    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.


    The Sermon

    Hot and loud and glorious
    Are thunderbolts of our morals
    Our convictions the tired earthquake
    Yet again arranging rock
    On which we rant.
    The sermon is the wind
    Roaring in the ear of abandon
    The sudden tick
    Of that broken kitchen clock
    Given to a child.


    Waterfall

    The waterfall is not the water
    It is the form of its fall
    As is all

    [RICHARD WILSON MOSS]



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