Let me keep watch

Let me keep watch
Over your body when
You are resting in peace.
Let me sacrifice
My meditation to you
When you are resting in peace
Let me protect your body
From rotting
When you are resting in peace.
Let me protect your memories
And dreamless dreams
When you are resting in peace.
Let me plant a fruit tree
Above you that I may still eat
When you are resting in peace.
Let me storm the gates of heaven
When you are resting in peace.
Let me give you oblation
Of our experience
When you are resting in peace.

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poem by David E. Patton
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Rain comes again

Rain comes again
My coat is wet
With winks willing
To be a mystery
On the other day
Of rain shakes
The glass and I’m
Caught between
The mirror till
Now is now
Let it rain
Rain rain
Come back again
Till I put my
Wet booths on
And rain all
Over you rain
Rain comes end wise
Stay come and stay
Rain rain

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poem by David E. Patton
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I advance within the pulverized air

I advance within the pulverized air
That vigorously attacks the instant.
I rumble in my muscles of good tidings
With my reservation as drunken as the
Word nigger spoken on the tongue
Emptied of compassion.
My poems are blemishes of suicide
Humble by the unformed evidence
Deformed defiance when the geography
Of the dawn loose of its strength and intelligence
And fall free from the self I keep hidden
In my back pocket.
I am more then the business end of my prick
Designated as a common warrior
Of negritude most profound against the
Cowardly determination of arbitrary discrimination.
Suddenly my country stands up against
The apocalyptic pestilence of interdiction
And the conquest designated paternal
When the stones of broken clouds

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poem by David E. Patton
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The Stars Are Psanky Egg

The stars are psanky eggs
The rope around the neck of the moon
Is made of clouds
The baby that cries in the night
Is crying for the salvation of man
Yes it is all up to the baby to save us
The night smells of new stainless steel
The cars are rubbing their rubber
Against the asphalt railing that
Captures the dangerously flumes
That chocks the night
I am a walrus wobbling around
In the seascape of my head
Night is caught in an empty bird house
Night is forever being caught in between something
I am a walrus wobbling around
The night that is in a tail spin
The night is forever falling forward
In the fold of my lips grows rubber a rose
Night is full of the sounds of fun

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poem by David E. Patton
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My father invented many things

My father invented many things
Least of them the wings
You should not get close
To things that amaze you
I was soaring high
Pleased to be in the sky
The bird’s eye is what caught me

It is man along that will hear
The measure of my song

The blue jay care not
That I am a poet
What I say may not affect you
But I am true to myself
In the wide open air

My father and I are
Ether brave or foolish

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poem by David E. Patton
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St. Louis was dying

St. Louis was dying
Under the weight of
Lost telephones
Thrown away by
The deaf hands of
My computer speakers

The keyboard misspelled
The noon day sun
When St. Louis was dying
Under stress of crime
Thrown into the furnace fire
Where an angel was born
To save the weigh of
Telephone wires strung
Down the dirty and dingy
Alley in the back yard of
A renovated heaven

The key board of the noon day sun

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poem by David E. Patton
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Ego words redeemed

Ego words redeemed
Artist-hero is me
A symnoliste groomed
To prove that I belongs
As a reflating heritage
Of Baudelaire and Caesar
I have escaped my agony
My version of my selves
And Laforage the dancing
Visionary who creeked created beauty
I cold hand the moon
And Godlike indiffernance
With my critical intelligence
Here am I compensated
With my practice of poetry
And middle-class resentment
Against words that hangs
Off the tip of the tongue
Uneasiness is in deep
Rest precariousness the

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poem by David E. Patton
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To the Very Last

To the very last
Was a traveler
A dwarf within
That rises to follow
Of its nature ability
Toward a giant that
Kindle soft desires
That had no good limit
Rise on age
He could save
The turning toward you
With a ceaseless pain
In its lengthening chain
Of hope that meet
The flesh of our meat.
I saw her in the round
There was a sundial sound.
Give signal sweet band
Of hands around her mound
She was the subtle

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poem by David E. Patton
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In St. Louis the boys

In St. Louis the boys
Gather at night to pause
Beneath a cloud
To count the industry
Of circumcision
Driven by the memories
Of needles of the moment
Their bodies clothed in
Rough beauty that sleeps
In the breast of comrades
Who ache for Walt Whitman
Who ache between the river
And the sexual Satyr
Among the billboards
That howls to be heard
Like the taste of the
Nude Mississippi
That groan at the
Shore of St. Louis.
The boys, yes the boys

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poem by David E. Patton
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Follow the water

Follow the water
That follows the divine offering
Follow the womb that follows
The birth of a beautiful thing seen
Follow the dead body placed
Behind the place of purification
Follow the beatified soul
That will freely guide you
Follow the avengers of
Dead black sons gone soon
Follow the existence
Of your body and soul
The double make of you
Follow, follow, and follow
Where the poets go
Alone the lease traveled road
Follow the midnight cat hunting the darkness
It knows not where it goes put is up for the going
There is an adventure there
Follow the children concern with fighting

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poem by David E. Patton
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