white dog inaugural (himself canine after the rain) by Fred Mecklenburg

I am not a silent poet

Fourth of July
fiery rain burns down through skin
it’s streamers come explosions on the night
melted dials a tortured horse last light bulb on
in limbo
do his hands shake
in terror or prayer or infirmity
or to his own dying music
heart attacked between the lesson and bad life
a fading glow
self-crucifixion by gouging wire
electric lust of past for future
now a whitening dream among fate’s greater scars
poor tyro
let’s unwrap it
merciless bleeding edges of broken mirrors
invisibility becoming a multitude of cuts
hands heart mind stripped naked to autumn
and the crow
doesn’t matter
when your city burns your self becomes fire
and flesh shows only smoke and tinder
and the contemplation of its scattered ashes
year zero
blood red turns pinioned white to black
in the heart of the inferno
in the cut rose
shines a…

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