you can sit in the night listening to trees
sing of otherworldly laments
while someone x-rays your head
to trace the fossilization of desire
putting memory on the back burner
& cook the essence of yesterday
while Poe's pendulum slices across
your guitar strings tremoring
echo of the sky's bleeding sound
waves for the resurrection of Rock
rolling thunder over the goth masses
while I dismember the body politic
with a switchblade's caustic reason
for all these cults have no meaning
without your cool fingers playing on
the skeleton keys of long dead martyrs
so the resounding forgotten winds
will accompany the immemorial flight
of desert ravens hungering to silence
your born again Rock god's last song
Bionote
Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where he occasionally edits the lit-zine ART:MAG. His new ebook novel is The Burgher of Virtual Eden available in all the usual places.
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