Monday, September 7, 2015

Tom Pescatore- Three Poems

Put in the Oven

Are we baking under
florescent lights?
          wasted away
to day-glo skeleton
     colorized bones
          sell me out
wake the dead police
     they zombies
          not for brains
               for order
     for order & honor & duty
I am hand shackled
     to dying trees nobody sees
                          nobody care
those concrete monoliths now
     steel framed
          invincibly framed
stare down on high
     from techno-heaven throne
where data goes
               know all
redact edit binge
the modem-brain-CPU
Casting long fiber-optic shadows
     over ruined cities
     over ruined heads
     to grow under
     artificial suns—

fortune teller

boxes stacked upside
down from heaven facing
earth like pyramid corpse
clouds of the infinite
sinking extra-dimensionally
into blue globed linear space
time limited vision reality
speaking in splintered images
they rupture the earth:

the past can be pointed to from all sides

every photograph we have
of ourselves show faces painted on
paper film skin

the future is an endless tidal wave never to break

That it's haunted

nose straight
broke off
lost in the snow
of ages and that
happened long ago

that town died long ago

same scene

better circumstances

clear spring day and the sound
of feet shifting through grass

that sound from long before I died

those angels playing

many dimmed smiles and carefree eyes

found a soft fleshy
thing in
high grass it
was held together
like a raisin
had no discernible stench

that meadow went barren many years ago

no one goes there anymore

the little girls and little boys

are sure of one thing

they say that it's haunted;

they sing.

Tom Pescatore can sometimes be seen wandering along the Walt Whitman bridge or down the sidewalks of Philadelphia's old Skid Row. He might have left a poem or two behind to mark his trail. He maintains a poetry blog:


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