map of potholes

6 May

when glasses play exodus
there is no promise land to see,
just skimming the beast tongue highway of
pockmarks and crevice;
a dark compass without destination;
hand in hand our magnet warms.


6 Responses to “map of potholes”

  1. Michael May 6, 2013 at 10:56 am #

    Hey man. I really like this one. The promise land is unreachable but the space between the hands can be infinitely full of joy already.

    • Michael May 6, 2013 at 11:06 am #

      The is where I went to just after reading your poem. Are there any connections?

      • Steve May 6, 2013 at 7:13 pm #

        to connect the dots during
        the a or de
        in the interim, i’m off to hear some music i never heard before. thank you!!

        • Steve May 7, 2013 at 1:10 pm #

          after further review, it looks like veruca salt’s ascent, sounds like it too, her gum chewing squeaks recycled.

  2. kvennarad May 7, 2013 at 4:29 am #

    Harmonika. Your poems flip north and south. “beast tongue highway” – a phrase to hang on a wall with the best of them.

    • Steve May 7, 2013 at 1:13 pm #

      and then set free the guillotine
      and burn yesterday’s bones.

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