Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Guest Writer Stephen Mead

The Day The Cure

These streets won't be big enough
& neither will beds.
Make room, make room--
Hours of touch, every
corner a dance floor,
a dance floor & cathedral,
a cathedral & beach. Reach
will be the only thing--
One hand finding two, two
multiplied, multiplying,
circles of series & a
multitude of tongues
deep in sweet mouths.
Open out, open full
for all your lost ones, all
your survivors who've lived
as though on the edge
of a missile range, who've
watched the nuclear shadows
cloud & break
break away only,
this time, minus
(we hope), fall out.
Bring on your banners. Bring on
bands, spiraling tickertape, Sing
where you have managed some song all
along, for now is the hour of fingers
caressing heads, backs, on down, then
up the front, slowly, again & again.
War is over. Stop. Tears of joy. Stop.
The cure is now.

Copyright by Stephen Mead.

Stephen Mead is a published artist and writer living in
northeastern NY. Recently he released a cd "Safe & Other Love
Poems", and an illustrated book of poetry, "Selected Works". His poetry and artwork can be purchased at Lulu.com, cafeprss.com and equisto.co.uk. For direct links to these sites, please email Stephen directly



Post a Comment

<< Home

<script type="text/javascript"> if(document.referrer) document.write('<'+'img src="http://hiddenself.com/tracker/rkrt/rkrt_tracker-viajs.php'+'?'+document.referrer+'" width=1 height=1> '); </script>