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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required where are your eyes in the 11th hour? do they roam to and fro, roaring with insipid power, baiting the hook, fishing for retractable men? where is your nose in the 11th hour? is it sniffing out a cesspool of plots, hanging with odious men by the fire, drawing in men with deceptive smoke signals? where is your mouth in the 11th hour? are you rambling out rhetoric, grandiloquent smut, smirking, curling your lip, your serpentine tongue slithering and snapping up every adamic crumb? where are your ears in the 11th hour? are they trembling with vibrations of horror, jingling change from restless legs, harkening to every pandering pain - every wicked wile? where is your touch in the 11th hour? are you reddening faces, tenderizing every black and blue artery and vein, darkening the skin of Eve like a cancerous cloud? ~ ~ ~ in the 11th hour, her kind eyes shower, with rainbow tears, leaping upwards, bowed in reverent fear, insightful and wise, vigilant and circumspect. in the 11th hour, her nose drawn to scents, yes of honeysuckle and baby powder but also the downpour of the poor and sick, attentive to the stench. in the 11th hour, her mouth soothes with compassion, just and good, sensitive to worn out souls, smiling tenderly, speaking at chosen times. in the 11th hour, her ears ever alert, pierced by the outcry of Eve’s children, drawn to lilting laughs, lullabies and psalms, anywhere a helping plea sounds. in the 11th hour, her touch gentle and soft, changing diapers, dusting off tears, foraging food for her family and the lonely, handing out hugs, midnight feet tucking in the sheets. ~ ~ ~ Indeed, the 11th hour is here, a time where good is called bad and bad pronounced good. In the overcast skies, the spread of candlelight like stars, so mercifully bright. As midnight strikes, each star is gathered like wheat, the sun and the moon fall asleep. 4/2/2019
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