On Finding Out That Jim Carroll Died September 11, 2009
All these brilliantly shining currents
Of memories
Of words.
Of memories
Like waterfalls gushing out the earthen vessel.
A tragicly equipped troubadour tantalized
By living, at the movies,
Nodding just so.
Dangling above it all nearly.
The vision is almost pristine
The way the muses' hand stroked cross wise.
With every notion of that mysterious pen,
Horizons appeared
breeding for purity.
Creating direction!
The stammering presence of
His voice conquered worlds,
Til the ink became blood;
The precious muse poisoning 'til the pen was like a needle crawling
Over the skin of existence;
Leaving an honest, filthy trail
of bruised dreams.
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march 23,2010
Copyright © Merritt Waldon | Year Posted 2010
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