A
PARADE OF NODS
for
Jim Carroll
Forests
of
granite crawl
from
bent tears
of
my prayer
to
make a mouth
of
silence.
A
torrent of teeth
behind
sunlight
carve
sand castles
out
the body.
It
is not for dreaming
or
escape. Herds
of
angry gods
keep
the drums warm.
The
power of nations
in
a flash against
my
ribcage, I feel
alive.
An invisible
greedy
hand reaches
into
the nest, the
birds
sing louder
than
death. And
I
save them by
unfolding
the shadows
wrapped
around their
secret
wings.
Jim Carroll Portrait -- Dan Lacey
