Banjo

come see

the raving day

a vengeance of rhythmic hymns

they are more terror

in the shattered hearts

emptiness unexplained

the bleached bones

of all dead things

sing to the wind

the night is dying

its endless death

light is the pleasant death

sung by songbirds

that never were

he sees a bluebird at dusk

it is the bluest of all blues

it is the color of beating wings

in a wanting sky

he is banjo now

plucking the small trees

from small clouds

their crowns beat

like hearts in

a touching breeze

they are closer

than ever before

farther than he ever

remembers

jppestana december 12, 2016