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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 70


i have mapped the streets of my soul
an aerial view with a legend
macro'd in on my brain via satellite
brought to you by cortext close-up shot

mists of time the dark place of it
as he swung left on Willet Street on his way home

there in dim twilight the killer, see him
so fast the youth of silence broken changing
hands money death and the lure of wisdom
old knowledge of heaven and hell
the image fades into cliché
the dream ends in fusions of colorless light
the screen now empty
and another 600 dead around the corner
and my friend a convicted pronoun

the carpeted green tables procure the essence of pool

the light from within pours like spilt blood out
on the darkened street, gently
inviting in

  E.L.Freifeld: 04.2011