Continuity
I stand by and watch you catch
Your desire to propel yourself into the new age is inextricable--it’s simple
Accurate to my eyes
You are failing
Weakening
Forcing yourself onto the immense reservoir of life
Pushing
Testing
Changing
You
Your New
Too do the same
There is no measure of start and stop that breathes in your approach to this action
Jointed, you reach for the new age
Tracking little of yourself in the wake of your past
Announce and beat upon
Swirls of infinite that replaces itself with each new chance
Copyright © Angelo Zinna All rights reserved
Tuesday, August 28, 2001
Behind Red Words waiting behind red — Not spoken Yesterday’s declarations are now broken Final farewells once promised Today, all these go unspoken Side to side are broken streets Without words, workers working their mechanical feats Waiting, sealed up in this worn set of wheels Its noon and yesterdays dreams are as good as high beams We’re listening to an old tune climb Impatiently she’s tapping out the time When the signal arrives We’re rolling to say one more of those little goodbyes Traveling down — her lips recall each and every odd one As if there were no shops to wallow For the stars, from the sun She commands. “Don’t ease up — We can make it.” I indulge, keeping the count alive Driven to be on the open-road by five Throwing the middle mirror to her side She applies a new coat of red Sardonically configuring my old words “Forget the past — it’s as good as DEAD!” I grin and return, “That’s what I said.” Her body supports “THIS IS IT!” Half stopped, Half gone, and Now I’m left alone To find my T-Bird a temporary home {Inside the theater} Proscenium, O Proscenium, my love’s a fortnight from me. …an Ill-bred invader? NO not I. Unenlightened and drawing from vacuous beginnings — possibly. A clod? No, just vexed by this vixen, who not once, not twice, but three times promised this picture would be placed in the scrapbook of time. Hear that harsh whisp chastise my soliloquy? Suddenly these slender skins automatically take to fixtuating. Four or five gather up some deity. Two or three forestage wrangling away – only their postures for provocation. Apexual determinants aglow and your movement’s rake, slide – they command the fragile exposure of time. Look here Proscenium… I’m slathered in sentimentality One must never sever a mother’s love Or remove every other word from Shakespeare’s work Alone — separating you for love alone? By my side would be an act — just a stand-in — a stage bereft of its showpiece I’m writing you this note Attaching it to your coat I’m saying goodbye — goodbye Stephanie I wouldn’t ask you if I could No one should So it’s Goodbye — one to many goodbyes {Inside the T-Bird} Outside the city happens so quickly No need to count the numbers — just wheel on bye Onto the open highway, it’s a distant shore I’m headed for Gone and Left behind, time remains unbroken Ahead of the red — words are waiting to be spoken Copyright ã Angelo Zinna All rights reserved 02/28/2001 02:04:11 PM 1
