This Skipping Boy

The steeping graphite sky splits just like a boxer’s lip.

As the Sun slams into night, vibrations bleed into the pitch.

The stars are shaken from their perches falling down into the Earth.

Like tears form angels fertilizing our future.

The moon rolls back on its celestial track,

A planetary ball-bearing refracting God,

and slipping through into the Orient mirror on the other side.

And as the blue shadows gather, revealing a new day,

the gradient threads of twilight recede into the hollow.

Dream-rusted eyelash fences

The cranberry light of dawn races along the horizontal horizon face.

The pins of light piercing your R.E.M. cocoon as you solidify again.

“No wings!”, resounding like a tympani in your conscious.

And all the feathers I have pasted on have spilt to the floor

as you hastily rip from your bed again

Back into your habitual current.

Insects, noise, and neon clouding up his soul.

Help me find a way to loose the grip of yesterday’s control.

This Skipping Boy

Richard Norman Schooping
www.richardschooping.com

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