Dr. Dawg


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For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not. —Jeremiah 10: 3-4

i’ll take the star, not the angel.
angels bleed. i watched one die.

stars pull you in, offer a cool death,
circuits, passages, adventures, orbits.

you can’t circumnavigate an angel,
you always get talked into face-to-face,

don’t try to wrestle,
you can’t win.

but you can speak to a star,
you can try to reason with it,

hot to the core, and once we lived that way,
when there was no before, nothing to fall back on.

otherwise we dare them, call them names,
we dream of visits and narrow escapes.

and the tree, rootless, shoulders
its burden of leaves.

Christmas 2010

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This page contains a single entry by Dr. Dawg published on December 25, 2010 12:34 PM.

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