A day is a poem (PM version)


If you were to pitch out your elbow,
Two weeks before opening day,
Would you have to go back to the
Drawing board, admit you're old?

He sold
his shoes for a ride downtown.
Scramble through the mud-brown dumpsters,
Clean your parking lot for a bite of food.
Crossfires interlace from all quadrants. Octrants, too.
Ye mobsters of war, a peace bomb will stun your gun.

Now, with duct tape over your mouth, remember
Those you rejected or belittled, entirely discounted,
Could've saved you from your murdering, or being murdered.

Recall
The bands who created the tiniest of genres,
Like Dread Zeppelin --- heavy metal Brit blues becomes reggae
With unsettlingly springy Elvis vocals. (Am I not thankful)

Missing wisdom that's offered to us every day
From unexpected sources (we should expect)
Cinnamon's gonna make you real. Chocolate's
Gonna make you feel sexy as an odalisque.
O. K. to throw around Modigliani as long as you
Know how to say it right.
Inamorata hurtling you back to your own personal
Eden until every
Victual on the groaning board overwhelms you
Like the first taste to ever hit your tongue.
Admit you're young.



-------Luke Phillips 4/11/06