A Walk in Houston
Wandering down Washington Boulevard
With dreams stolen in Norway
That are Pasted on the eyelids
Of every passing man.
There is a fine coat of sadness
Dusted on the huddled figures in the fifth ward.
And visions get kicked to the curb
Rootless, bootless , shirtless and shoeless.
The blending wind blows
Through steel and glass canyons.
Walking down West Alabama past ponds
Of mirror stillness
Scooting over the slippery magic
That dribbles down pawnshop windows
People are seized in their scheming
To steal wheels and drag ragged
Bodies whole and holed
With Glock strewn intestines
Making calligraphic phrases .
Still the Blending wind blows
Through tight alleys.
Gas stations rise like
Shimmering Venice
Above pressurized blood
In an oil glazed sunset
That reflects pearls of petroleum
in flecks
Of marbleized chemicals.
And the blending wind blows
With air held in its sweaty palms.
There is a man slouching in a doorway
Like a bronze sculpture
Still as a stalking lion
Torn jeans flapping
And sanity shook in to crevices
Where candles burn in rib cages
And seeds snick as they hop
From pavement To the rush
of the long trail to the Buffalo Bayou.
Joshua Kight. 10/24/12