Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

almost till the break of dawn

on and on and on and on
till the break of dawn

dawn breaks kissing sun spasmodically
knows how to play the blues on the jawbone
of some earlier sortof man
breaks hissing at the sun
over dark trees kissing too
the knees of some breeze.
a sight fr crusted eyes
whatever yr context,
it don't give a shit
, it is just 'tis.
a consortium of coming colors

and when i wonder
if this poem
is any good or not,
i realize,
dawn don't give a shit.

the rain hits as a real soul jam
with a bit of rainsortof intelligent hip-hop lyricism
turntablin round the dabble of the thing
dribblin round.

but now
truth is
'tis just before dawn
now, the thing ain't broke yet,
the back of night,
the subtle trumpets ain't yet sang,
and on and on,
'tis still night,
but the cusp of the dawn thing
creeping slowly but not yet
cross dark trees
peering lights,
this concentrated sphere
bout to creep in
breaking the back (((somehow)))
of night.
let that shit in,
slow 'nuff,
sho' 'nuff,
and will be.

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