* * * * * * * * * * *
PIECES - 9 - after leonard cirino
we speak. our words are stones
beside old highways
in rivers no one fishes.
we laugh. love is rain.
the wind, like memories,
disturbs tranquillity
but is invigorating.
***
no magic in the old man's pockets.
only gold. here
you can't eat gold &
you can't buy happiness.
***
the mountain sleeps under
fog & moss.
eagle in 200 yr. old snag.
i photograph it with films of my heart
share with any who listen.
mostly i speak to stones. little
ripples in pools
no one visits.
***
even the snake leaves riddles
in the dust.
***
old man watches stars, the moon -
wonders of aliens, god -
prays for the dead
himself.
a light rain by morning.
old man collects stones
for conversation with crows & rats
who at least understand his message.
* * * *
JESUS BEGS FOR GAS MONEY
i met jesus in the alley
he asked for 43 cents for gas -
his eyes told me it wasn't necessarily the money
2 dimes, a nickel, & quarter into his open palm,
like angels from heaven.
his eyes told me heaven waited around the corner,
where he approached the next sinner
needing redemption
* * *
POEM
this room stinks of farts
she scowled
& i thought it smelled of poems (old & lonely)
simply seeking audience ....
* * * *
(c)Kenn Mitchell, 1998