This ruckus of storied time

This ruckus of storied time, passage of night
Styrofoamed day, meandering hushed blues
Crying noon songs of choked tears staining
The floor red, this ruckus of storied time that
Makes new the revelation, brings forth the
Trepidation, and shouts out the abdication,
This ruckus of storied time, this passage of
Grits stuck somewhere, finding not noon
Solace but evening shade, red with expectant
Markings etched on the face of a sleeping
Priest greeting you once again with open arms.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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