Somewhere in Advance of Nowhere

PoetryIn factpoetrywill notstrikelightningthroughanyconvoy of chickensToday poems are like flagsflying on liquor store roofpoems are like baboonswaiting to be fed by tourists& does it matterhow many metaphorsreach out to youwhen the sungoes down likea stuffed bird intropical forestof your solitudeIn factpoetrywill notsing jazzthroughconstricted mouthof an anteaterno matter how manysymbols surviveto see the moondying in saw dustof your toenail