I AM FULL OF ARROWS

I AM FULL OF ARROWS

A Poem by STRAND

Demons, scores of hissing serpents,

every dawn-their proud vessel.

 

The morning is a dreadful thing;

wrenched from the womb or warm bed.

 

Perhaps youth should attack the day,

as old spent forces retreat, repair.

 

Day-it’s leg raised as rays are let loose.

Clocking in, I am full of arrows.

 

This one-undeserving of glory.

Squinting at gold of the mundane.

 

Inscribe, write it all down for me.

I’d rather be told what happened.

 

This coward-unhorsed daily,

limping across the finish line.

 

Beginnings are bleeding events;

our rivers are slow to run dry.

 

I’ve always awakened cursing

the prying light behind the curtain.

 

Every night deepening, sinking,

as we dream of aborted Suns.

 

Wakefulness-surely a miracle

that our slumber seeks to heal.

© 2013 STRAND


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Added on March 25, 2013
Last Updated on April 2, 2013

Author

STRAND
STRAND

Portland, OR



About
Wallower of muck and with good reason. more..

Writing
FOUND LAZING FOUND LAZING

A Poem by STRAND