Paul Revere by Cyrus Dallin, North End, Boston



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Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sunday Night Poetry

                                                           --Astrological advice 

All the times I've been born 
and hit by the wakening hand, 
I must have missed the lesson, 
the luck of the anguished 
who carry not garbage in dented cans, 
but glittery cuttings to powder their lawns.  

Give me that drum-trumpet. 
I'll toot the bang of bad karma, 
lift my corpus out of its swoon, 
prove I'm not a prisoner of archipelagoes. 
I, too, can get fired up for the ball, 
big deal of a world to wallow in.


1 comment:

Infidel753 said...

I don't think you missed the lesson. I think you simply learned it better than the sort of flippant, trite "advice" that treats pain as merely a word.