The Next To Last…

by Lord Bison · 31 December 2015

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Spoken Word

The year we take away
The heights from which we’ve fallen
Sound asleep we hit
Pavements lined
With shining footprints
Worlds sequined against
Frantic outbursts of making it
Nor desire
Neither despair keep them
Stitched for very long
Do we all sleep on the way down
To wake up from that mild
Nightmare o’ repeating?
Funnel that dream into
My veins
This year — gradually
Now — in the next blink

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photograph by NTYSIX

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Tags: desire dreams new poetry new year poem poem 74 rebellion

Lord Bison

Jazz-soaked spirit running circles around despair...or something like that. Really. Lover of words, lover of being in worlds free...just...free. New Yorker, artist, Virgo besieged by airhead tendencies akin to Libra moves. Bronx is home base. Began an obsession with writing at seven and twenty-odd years hence, still at it. Enjoy/love/hate/be bored/appreciate to your heart's content. Or something like that. http://www.lbisonartist.com