Venetian Blinds
If the eyes be the window to the soul,
then Venetian blinds my emotions,
blurring another Earth outside,
mandolin of light
When I open them white prisoner bars,
they clatter like the bones of saint death,
I jump - they list - like sinking ships,
Lusitania light
Hate cleaning all them individ'l slats,
dust and nicotine... remember man
yer made from dust and nicotine,
O, let there be light!
My tattoos are stained and polished tendons
like blinds with an equalizer cord,
tasselled with gold, yet indifferent
to my needs for light.
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1 comment:
You have tatoos??? Tell me more!!
BTW, the country is disintegrating faster than I thought it would.
I haven't written a poem in months.
Cheers to you and yours.
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