Читать книгу Somewhere Lost - Jasen BSL Sousa - Страница 5

without names and owners

eventually finds homes, cuddled

by the flames of loners.

Listen to those who search

for temporary treasure on the corners

where weight is exchanged for

green feathers

that float into the pockets

of invisible street lovers dressed

in urban sweaters, stitched

with the letters of their real names.

Who you be?

Who can you be?

Sell more than lies

that were put in your palm. Search

for the truth like the man who keeps

asking for a refill of the juice

in his arm.

Check please!

Full, until I am hungry again. Search

for nourishment that will fill

the linings of my stomach’s soul for an entire lifetime,

or at least until the moment gets old.

Inner city mining, digging for punishment.

Do you feel me, how am I supposed to be felt?

Every time I write, live a line,

I wonder if I will tell it in the right way?

Can you hear it the same way I can hear it?

Echoing inside my rib cage, pulsating

down my fingertips. If I didn’t write it,

it would never exist.

I guess.

Fresh, like the dozen eggs just placed

on the shelf, waiting to be cracked open

to find what’s in one’s self.