Recusancy and After?
written by: Jim Bellamy
How recusant, the departure of good minds
down alleyways, or watching
the lean doors opening past the milk-white strain
of ashes, rising and falling.
Mad-man or soldier? both are fazed to dream;
and, oh, they simply get married
or content themselves with killers mourning…
Whipped beds of sex deem so explosive that
Men note melodeons appear praying, or
the tiny decks of water cloying and spraying,
or, on late evenings, watch
cross-hearted waders washed in lime?
Like new stored clothes,
the huge decisions spread out like feet
and invent a new way of treading;
this is the random wake of minds, the
Close call of the murderer running.
Here subventing each wade and rote,
the stolid brain suffuses
and closes right away.
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