Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Blindest Ray

by Austin McCarron

 I walk through air
of shapes,
with amputated feet,
and the light in my soul
is open
and the
hair on my face is free.

I comb its breath with
images of song.

The purity of dawn, grey
like a severed heart,
like a mother of dreams,
trusting what it sees.

Incomprehensible, I sit down,
hunting for plans to live.
I bubble inside
like water on grass of solitude.

I drink out of machines. I find
a path belonging to dead trees.
I walk
in a garden of trembling stone.
I pass rivers of chaos and dances.
The sun is
a crowd, baked with silent voices.

In between widowed branches,
the city is my childhood, radiant
with feasts of life, bread of water,
food of fish and flames, crushed
like sweet fruit with juices of time.

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