STREET PREACHER

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

argues

with its own

reflection

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

preacher_2

Advertisements

One comment on “STREET PREACHER

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s