On a Folksy Painting of Kids Throwing Die, Harlem

On a Folksy Painting of Kids Throwing Die, Harlem

Tap tap tap foretold the stoop’s cartomancy ahead,

Green worms ravage the expected shrine,

bend moonward & escape between sweltering summer law enforcement sweeps.

Throw die: twitch in heaven, shoot out by spring flecked grass bumps

angelic flecked spirit nets: Catch what youth has gambled, return our allowance,

Paint fury over this was an accident, don’t arrest him, the dark path deserved a mural of sweat.

Not reborn, nor murdered, this vigil tightly wound,

all bets on snake eyes—for candlelight Heroes who never had a chance.

I stood upright in the evening to paint the canvas back.  

shortlink: dogb.us/throwing

          

               

More Remarkable Finds
Squirrel Resurrection

Squirrel Resurrection

Oakland squirrel on the street—RIP: its language was like Coleridge’s albatross that spoke through the neck of a Hanged Man.
Last Friday Evening

Last Friday Evening

Something terrific has happened, my android manservant, HE, whispers, a synthetic peal HE thinks soothing. I stop chopping scallions.
The Last Stroke

The Last Stroke

They say no work of art is ever finished, only abandoned. But that’s not always the whole truth.

Recent

Track your submissions at Duotrope