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Saturday, May 18, 2013


Three painting by Chris Buzelli


Dynamite in the blood.
The veins are fuses, hot
With mockingbirds in the 
Long air of delta summer night.

I listen to the sputter in 
My chest, smell the gunpowder
Of tomatoes and snap beans
Racing through the tall
Grass toward my brain.

I become the fields
And burst into flame,
running from my bedroom
Blinded by sheets of flame
Higher than the crust of smog
Above my head,  choking on smoke
Of my ancestors, as the dream
Banks break over my mind, flooding
The synapses and thought canals
With wave after wave of soothing
Water.  Towers of steam rise up
Throughout me.  I am pale and shaken
With the delta.  Clouds of me hover
Over the levees, find the languid sloughs
And presently regain the river, winding, unwinding.

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