street preacher

when I close my eyes I hear

the father’s voice not

his son’s as he cautiously becomes

man not

the spirit’s tongue

of feathers & fire I hear

continents grind

time’s big drum the voice of no

not what could or should    not

being’s eternal quarrel

but when I speak    a starling


with its own


I know

one day I’ll open

my eyes see

His voice a pillar

of sound my breath

braids around & you

will stop & you

you & you

will listen

– from midnight the blues poems by Frank Rossini  sight/for sight books 2012



One comment on “STREET PREACHER

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