write you a poem
try to save sovereign
perils from weaving thin thread tapestries
from your bare knuckle street fighting heart
beating it's way through every thought
trying to balance this endless war to music
Biting the verse
and sweet silver bullet nectar stanzas
shall you stand there
in-between the lines
with your wrestling on scraps of paper
Curling edges blowing down backalleys
Full of rusty fences
will you climb gut punched breathless
over a chance
running certain
the pen tripping between your fingers
leaving your crosses
caught in willow trees
holding within their palms
every tight fisted folding
of your pages into prayers
Waterfalls standing
Upon empty street corners
street lights honoring those
who hold flames steady and long enough
for fear to finally bleed from
a million broken records
that we have all been rocking out to
leaving room for the unwritten
silence that may yet
fall ink stroked
upon empty pages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem