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A Tale of a Neighborhood and its Nightly Ritual

When the day's dark intermission begins
And the people prance off stage
Locks of wind move in
And crochet grotesqueness 
In shaded sheets shielding the moon. 

Hearts leak into the streets;
Hallowed horns belch with glee
And echo across an ether.
Phantoms ooze ice and sepulchers 
(Spectres? Or sculptures of spectators?)
Eat with their shoes off. 

Here the trees teeter 
And suck the teat of
The Great Mother's bosom. 
Here baying bicycles wind around the ground
Talking with the other flock of totter-ers. 
Here light unwinds itself
Disperses like dew in the depths of day
And here, bone dust creeps up 
From under our lawn chairs. 

Blackened figs sing howling
On burned birch sidewalks
"Who left you back at school,
Thumping into a night?"

Clawer, your sharp talons
Cornered your kleptomania
Into another sticky fingered situation,
(Zeus is that you?).  

You'll never see it quite
Like it was before
But there it is, if you
Look around a little less.


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  1. Date: 7/23/2014 3:10:00 PM

    Nice use of alliteration in this poetic Matt. I enjoyed the free flow of each line and the subtle abstractions you utilized in this effort. Very good Matt. tom

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