Bob Dylan, "Tangled Up in Blue" "And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burning coal, pouring off of every page, like it was written in my soul."
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Poem: April 3, 2020

 

 

April 3, 2020

 

By Patrick T. Reardon

 

I learned my ABCs long

ago and know the dance

inside darkness. Better

to stumble and bang and

crash in shadows than

corner-sit waiting for sun.

Mournful either way, yet

joy in electricity of touch.

 

I am old, and my bruises

are old, scars, deformations,

elbow knots, skin tags, out

of balance, out of focus,

gall in stomach, failures of

skill, of act, of nerve, yet

joy in dark leapings taken.

 

Now, when land is roamed

by invisible Leviathan, lazy

hunter, picking off herd’s

weak and frail, dark within

dark, I am threat and victim

but content with sum of

steps down all the days

from my mother’s womb and

joy of awe-full wide eyes.

 

Patrick T. Reardon

4.3.20

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