They should like
to be quiet, motionless
no more alive than
before. But now the
royal ghosts are calling
the empty theatres
their thieves, harlots their
garlands. Is it the toil
in spirit or sounds
of open tombs that after
time one becomes numb
& so the hour no longer
comes. Last night
her body was carried
to a small wagon
& a death mask–
cask of her face
& hands were made.
Gone are the guests
bones of those who
have not stood alone.
Buried early morning
& involuntary exile
may their remains
cease to be released
& her name left behind
as both signature
for Jeff Butler
Scores of letters, telegrams & poems
Lie unread on the table. Veiled in the folds
Neglected light, there are no more arches
Only wall & shadow. Head of Nero
Bone-pin & scissor, in uniform departure
They pass in procession & do not stand up
To cold or hunger. We keep moving, making
A white cross over both wrist & shoulder.
This does not work well. There are five marks
The first of which enables life after death
So let the first override the third & second
Override the fourth. There are no
Excavations here, only private vaults
Ceremonies left without safe keeping.
Patrick James Dunagan
Acts of Faith
Gazing at the river I understand suicides
in a sky of burnt pink
my eyes turn to blanks
each and every feeling comes along
on a gorgeous afternoon
of course I continue to walk
it wasn't like I'd go for a swim
all the colors of the clouds
piled high and proud
orange purple grey and brown
white mountains I accept
a later day to climb
Natalie Portman is my crutch in this poem
of truths I've nothing to hide.
Every "I've never heard that name" line
like television background noise
another story of full circle success at a young age.
Competing with the movies is difficult
living with a woman in love with herself.
Committed to the words "I love flesh"
into the Real I fold up the screen
following her down the street
as the cars pass and the agony begins.
Cedar SigoLIVE at The East
They have been
in Hades sun
music I once
in fire and
kiss the ring
to the black
and crowned heads
coral seas, the edges
had onyx scaled
that we wish
to gather against.
That would flash
on me still
a tape already
Make light so
***note: Cedar's poem has lost its line formatting here.
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