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©2011 Sam A. Buonavolonta
EVERY OTHER ANTHOLOGY
If there was one good reason to stay then I would not even hesitate but every other anthology is saying you should run away from what you know about love what you know about peace and what you know about losing everything. When you know your lamentations then the sky is no longer a limit if it comes like a morning that's not quite ready for the sun trickling down the size of states
HAND TO THE GOOD BOOK
Hand to the good book speak from your crossed heart. My personal demons have started the church and they believe that the end is near but I'm not convinced I caught a glimpse of your coat tail when I dove for it and missed. I don't want to be the head that's on a stick I don't want to be the blood that soaks the wood.
There will be no thunder stolen, no silently antagonizing each other because brother we only sew what we think we reap and that's when they catch us at our most candid these are the prayers collect in the canyons. We planted stakes but didn't know that they would raise like the dead from there graves as necks for heads caught with a bygone not quite ready to be itself.
A SECOND NOEL
If the push and the pull ripple through ebb and flow until every star is eclipsed by its follower then the wise will keep following to try to find the line between confidence and denial and end up standing. On a second noel, the angels did sink. On a second noel, their ghosts rose and keep rising, keep building boats on a second noel. If the rules were bent carefully like a circuit then it'd be worth the risk to make it past that would come back to do so much more than haunt but in fact keep blowing all the notes in their sails again singing a noel again.
I got some big ideas I want to stick my soul in realize an innocence again and again. Call it a bluff call it your best shot, call it enough is enough huh. If power comes with knowledge than ignorance must be the piss which drips dull yellow like a lightbulb over hanging heads.
You said you were a holy prisoner as it turns out you were only visiting me like the atonal hum of a casino or church that is busting at the seams we've got good problems now. All that you've ever leaned on, lean on it's still strong enough it's still all that you've ever leaned on so lean on it's still strong enough. Now the ink is hiding between the lines written small and turned upside down. Blinding like a torch that's passed on just before you light it on fire.
OLD DOGS / NEW TRICKS
Shiver like the only lonely light whisper the claws set on pause when you here them coming back, they're coming back around we're listening from our knees, they're waiting for the sound. If you catch me my only request is that you answer one question: How do you carry your cross so easily as if it were weightless as a crucifix hangs in cleavage.
FACING THE MUSIC
We can meet our maker as we are in season where trees resemble a sunset the air will be anxious when we address our fears but the music will be pure and screamed out loud we won't be taken alive we'd rather die. Dance! Till you drop to the ground and turn around and be yourself.
Party martyrs and modern fathers slit the tension like a throat until the air feels like the stitches is your coat saying if you want to get out alive your gunna have to leave. Never underestimate the power of a broken heart. Or the boys with their beautiful voices who take the choices from their girls. Talking to you as a television would, all eye contact, no listening in their explaination. Saying if you want to get out alive you're gunna have to live. And You laid with the weight and movement of a monument with two dates below you and a quote above them as if it were necessary to push the sentiment it said "Never underestimate the power of a broken heart."
© 2011 Sam A. Buonavolonta