Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Night Driver II

[sequel to an old poem]
Night driving
back home, honor kept
sleepless, with cruel intent
capital crimes
gone unforgiven
suffering in comfort
drawing pleasure from the
sun rises on my devoured heart
looped tracks of dried tears
exeunt reservations
howling at heaven's gate
the sound of progress
concrete jungles
and metal golems
marching off to an uncertain future
reaching out to
he old world
cacophony of song
rivers of street lights
flashes of brilliance
and then dark

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