jerome moore

The Rebel - Poem by jerome moore

Lauren I wander wounded-like, this labyrinth that has cut me with broken bottles,
and I have seen the moon blush which whimpers purple shades around our weathered alter.

Remember that alter I feigned for you?
Though Ive breathed through and swallowed bundles of smoke for you, the signals I feathered and fashioned towards you?


Laying in our gourmet grotto at the brink of a pernicious pool, Indian summer? Me reading to you, readings echoing through the cypress like whipserings an effigy to Eliots' hollow men his straw men


when our audience broke twigs I started up and you wrapped me in your pinions, said dear boy read some more. I read you Neruda how you liked Neruda coming out of my mouth. We were piano keys played by the surrounding nature and which often echoed upon themselves scintilating
rebelion. like the firecrackers that fell in ten stories, raining down on Soho streets.
And Ive been walking these streets for days, looking for you, anything of yours.

When I return I hope you are gone, I know you will be gone due to the horns that have begun to grow out of my head and the howling I hear far off in distant trails.
Why lie I don't really think about that anymore all these words are broken
Lauren what can I possibly rhyme with you Florin? Foreign? Boring…

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 23, 2012

Poem Edited: Sunday, September 16, 2012

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