This crazy place where gold sits in plain view beside an ideal
And a hungry man steals the ideal
Makes from it a simple piece and wears it proudly in the streets
For everyone to admire.
How hungry must he be to let gold hang from someone else’s neck
To leave it on the field
To let it gild marble walls and lofty altars
And languish in vaults?
How hungry to toss together rickety foundations of refuse
And mounting them, raise a naked fist
To a smiling sky
That showers golden stardust on the sated
And leaves the famished to die?
How hungry must he be, next time walls fall
To leave gold to the rubble
And build something of value
Beneath the smiling sky?
Jason Anderson, 2014
The sun gathers in wrinkles on late afternoon sheets
Breeze-scattered energy highlights an intemperate body
A cat grudges to recover a beam
I am not whole nor was I meant
What is not burns for all that is
And spins in the vacuous intermission
This room won’t be sun-filled nor cleared by a wind
Cat and I shift uneasily on empty sheets
One ravenous for flesh
The other stalking an eternal sunbeam
By Jason Anderson
But why does the cat always have to be on my side of the bed?
Sometimes, after midnight and before dawn
The horizon blanks and I can see everything
Sometimes, in the rest between the rains
The world pauses and I can hear everything
Sometimes, on a pillow of skin and coarse hair
A heartbeat beckons and I can feel everything
Sometimes, as winter wood burns wet
Smoke sears, acrid, and I can smell everything
Never have I tasted enough, and I never will.
©2013 Jason Anderson