Sunday, 21 November 2010

Issue nine// satnrose

a troped poem by satnrose

lie his lie is his and your lie is yours the remnants of blood again bored
redder but there's a bread sometimes the solution saw the pulse that salt
seeds in cherry but I know without her way second back the endless nut
this is the last nothing he looks running up and rocks a long kiss making
this a time for everything but to aim one then one must be aware of it
but you can in you and it can be everlasting except she ran steps as far
away from you as she could get but it was false as music between say
the thing was where you hurt there's a sea melting forsaken at a comm-
unist pace the rain again today on this very earth a cardinal can give a
kill and maybe and gone yourself worth spring the detective from jail
and you’ll know the twice with the old going they now survive on leave
shall we just butter the toast and not filch nothing finding yourself numb
and unable to celebrate won't you live a guess my wife hears in spark ha-
ppy! tears you gave for me make me forget hell it’s cruel and the sound
of the click of the shutter means the photograph has been transferred to
glass I lit out of the house so baby let us decide now but decades down
the road we must pay ransom so the death dogs won’t come looking for
us I forgot mine I have no blood left and say if the sycamore boy is right
and the ice if having as hysteria and dawn for you if there is an impatient
difference the won't would be the only thing that made a difference and
if only I could wake lying here with the six beekeepers one for me and
one for you and the other for for I’m not sure the fool central is central
to the argument so don't tell me how much time I have and have we seen
eye-to-eye? not who was unable between getting beneath a million or the
increases but at the next turn taking missionaries as knee-babies tonight
maybe bread jets in nicely in for the whole lot and maybe you can hide
after all but don't it see you doing the what if and what I came to this sw-
eet place this street where the universe is plainly visible but I awake for
just cause and have the stones only to go away my heart it is the dream
and you when there is here with which maybe who could so take foot
and turn that around moving by touch the clock offered pity and always
there is fighting starting somewhere no matter where I stand by as what's
invasive there's a light ticking rhythm in the sun so just go let go of the
one and when burning simply leave start the near sun all over again be-
fore he jumps before he is ready given the terrified doorway called before
you I maintain here the same sunflower and then when the One does co-
me come they’re like monkeys that even if you stop go down blue tomo-
rrow is solid and the train can take us much further I have a feeling any-
way that by deep laughing even the dust will no longer be waiting this is
all I get and what I cannot accept are the years in which its awakening
suddenly the cold digs into my skin and the sun is flying past the window
and those still in the gutter are up better than we know we just have to
last long enough to here blood will tell so our intentions are noble our
appetite is a dog what you want you dissolved in crimes day after day
there's fear and then there are yesterdays you have your own cross to
bear what you see in the mirror reflects the before words time and by
falling go if you will the line you crossed is the line you lost the wolf
of our season will maybe maybe be your last friend the room shakes it
must be an earthquake the haves who have the trickery put out the fire
I am stuck with what I think is a block of time all you say came as you
remembered it was stupid to kiss the sky he said but why not try there's
people out there making babies there’s sparrows pecking through the
corpses on the battlefield there’s snow blooming so raise steady or you
will lose what was dreamed and possibly even yourself in the process
when you get that cold you pay and December is old meanwhile the ba-
ttle continues and the such and the saved saved are crying and there’s
nothing I can do about it I tried to staunch the blood but it was hopeless
be that as it may tears fall as black as the sun the secret of being what I
meant to be said was that the nothing but heart can still be just as cruel
when trying to be kind as when trying to kill tell me is this tomorrow?

© satnrose 2010
satnrose is a well-known antiquarian bookseller, and formerly a not-so-secret messenger in the innermost depths of Capitol Hill and K Street. He has been published in a number of literary magazines, but since his reincarnation as 'satnrose' last year, he has been published in Evergreen Review, Iconoclast, Danse Macabre and Counterexample Poetics, among others.