Today's poem is by Ralph Angel

Tame Me

But how to get through to a mind
that's covered with rubbishy thoughts?
Not by thinking, that's
for sure. And that's the problem,
I think. In silence, and
stoned to death.

Oh it has a story; the silence.
It's musical and bright. Stuff moves
forward in it, but isn't it.
Thinking, thinking, the word itself
chipping into it. Morning
and raining, but not
so much. The sprouting stops
and starts again. Death's

Thinking, thinking. The wind
leans this way and that. My before
and my after. There should be a fat robin
for the worm at the back
of my throat. The moss growing
in dank places, I can
smell it. The first
sounds of garbage trucks
climbing the hill.
Oh Friday of loneliness
and fear. Oh worked-up Friday.
Thinking, thinking, the word itself
banging into the unsaid
so that I might
hear it.

Copyright © 2014 Ralph Angel All rights reserved
from Pleiades
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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