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2 poems by Jason W. Johnson

7/1/2013

1 Comment

 
Picture
Starts and Stops

Thickened speech
days turned 
to strange goodbyes

Alone
glassed round with mirrored light
a patient sallow-eyed

afraid.
My father’s heart
is music sinewed

and latticed
with auburn hair--
birthplace of gibbous vows

egress 
of 
the 

sun


Hymns from Purgatory: no. 3

1.
Signals sleep in the mountain’s braided web,
a rift that logics and creeds cannot cross—.
Not even the elect—whose work
is shepherding law through the incense of history--
can rise through the silent plume of the absolute,
a point where song and scab
plateau into a veneer of grief and symmetry.

2.
Equations scatter their names--
the shocked-quartz voices of children,
their sleeves of neon velvet and trickling glass,
hands opening a dove’s balmed anthem,
hanging a bow in the sky--
over a pearl-spun Atlantic 
filthed by the debris of a dream.
photo credit: orionkroeger via photopin cc
1 Comment
Daniel Gillespie
7/1/2013 05:13:57 pm

Inspiring work. Well done.

Reply



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