Page 29
By Jack Joseph Smith
There at the brink of pain;
holding through, his head straight
he walked through the neon
lights as if they were a sea.
The lights swirled And contained
themselves As the unbelief of
a desert, that would come.
A place, then where life would
be to spring for business
to overcome. But he was not
there, And the ties of his
nervous system had stopped
him from shifting - for four
days. He felt vanquished And
unpreached to from anywhere.
Hope was not, in future, but
A dream out of
from the possibilities of the
past.
His future form was bent and
caged like. Not crippled, but.