jerome moore Poems
and with a blast of silence
i experience all and nothing
and become further consciousness
a place where the chains of perception are lifted
and I am free out of mind and body
the walls are burning down around me
and I am nowhere
The Sea Deceives Me
The pages of the calendar fall to the ground,
crunch crunch crunch under our feet,
grinding themselves to dust.
Hours and numbers, days and months cover the earth with mosaic colors
as if a tempest had broken open a damn and they flood out into our fields, we rake them up, unspoken we burn them, we stuff them in threadbare and patchy clothing, we make scarecrows up to look like our former selves,
others we stuff in gutters and drains.
There are pages from a hundred years back in som