Revolving Stage Poem by jerome moore

A revolving stage!
The carousel goes nowhere,
spinning endlessly back on itself.
The infinity of an hour glass.
The sands of time.
The back of the widow.
People get on others get off.
To be trapped here is to be nowhere,
in a waiting room

Waiting for the judgment hour.
Waiting for clarity to devour free will.

it could be a prison of paralysis
it could be a prison of fetish
it could be a long bus ride downtown,
with a broken air conditioner

it could be long lines of freeway traffic
it could be societies prison
it could be your own prison
it could be cupids prison
it could be deaths prison
Tigers
Leopards
Horses
Bears
Panthers
Lions
Jackass
A revolving stage