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"Jehovah Joe's World Famous Traveling Show" by Jack_push_Jill

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I sat down at the edge of the road,
at the edge of the world, where the river
fell down upon the lowest stars (if we were born
at the apex of all things
and Jehovah Joe spun the earth like a dinner plate
from the tip of his omni-walking stick

I'm sure he'd use his free hand to
tip his tattered hat, and he'd smile like
decrepit brick walls
blackened and gappish, to the lag-o-bouts
and they would lay about him, with
pennies, and notions of goodwill
their tongues dragging
the walk, leaving trails) and I thought,
thoroughly, of two minds in accord

Well, most of the time

But I did see the paper today, on
a wrack, down town
the headline was a black fountain
and I drank it down, salted
While I said to myself that I
could put in my two cents, and
come back smiling
from the rapture, as if I'd passed
beneath a shimmering marquee
Ticket stub in my wallet,
spirits fleshed out in my very own awe

Hand in hand with my grandfather's father,
hand in hand with the Christ and the tramp


Oh, I'm a power player, I'm
a savior, I'm a sigh
I'm a thief, and I'm a crier
'tis the truth, it is a lie


and myself said to I,

Well I wouldn't have the sense to rub together enough
friction to keep the tips of my fingers warm
and like a beggar, ragged and torn
nothing worth pawning in for a bed
upon a cloud, until then.
And I could drink enough of the spirit to
heat the flesh and oil the bone
and sleep beneath the awning on a pillow made of stone
a gentleman of two minds and just one shoe
of worldly skill, and not the tools
to build a leg on which to stand

The Lazzaroni, and The Nazarene
not a laughing matter, if you please

Though, I could not help it
sitting there, with my right leg hanging
over the edge of the earth
Nursing my poor unshod left foot
as the tears sprung to my eyes, and
my lips split like logs on Henrenian axes
Mistaking the squeals of porcelain on wood for
the keening and croons of a very sad fool and
titters from the patch worked muse

Watching my poor lonely shoe fall down upon Mars
(Like two gentlemanly fellows shaking hands
then parting ways)


Didn't you see the papers today, on
those racks down town?
The ones that spat like black fountains
and found the world corroded?

Well as Jehovah gave a leg
and Mr. Eliot whimpered



I exploded














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Printed from www.Poetly.com/members/418/1449 on Friday August 29th, 2008 02:17 AM

Certain elements © 1996-2006 Matthew Steven (matts.org)