Parade, lively boy, on the binge of orange drinks,
and fish in the liquid a sugar’s shout:
My nervy American empery prolongs
its precious mid-aged babies, yet ignores
all but the gems, whose world
is overtly all the world.
Parade, little man, from your second annual cake,
and jump to unseat your energy:
My parade no longer wears conical hats or noise,
and I must fish my own liquid for a slower solve.
So parade, boy of mine, until I sleep:
This age will chirrup its fare far between us.
Ray Succre currently lives on the southern Oregon coast with his wife and son. He has been published in a variety of publications across dozens of countries. His novels Tatterdemalion (2008) and Amphisbaena (2009), both through Cauliay, are widely available in print and a third novel, A Fine Young Day, is forthcoming in Summer 2010.
Post a Comment