Graffito

Lightning cracks open the night –
let's go baby, demolition time –
into the dumpster, break back

this plywood attic of dreams,
jumbled stars twixting 2x4
shanty-town constellations –

I jam my claw hammer under the moon,
pull it like a nail: extruding,
extracting, bending light –

Neither safe nor sorry, you and I
run like squirrels from feral comets
loosed by rotted gravity.

Heaven’s bright vault wide open –
Ministry of vandals,
I hand you the can –

What will you tag on God’s walls?
What thirst will you spray
in black and light?

For Shay’s Word Garden

15 thoughts on “Graffito

  1. What a cool weird reality you have created here! Prying the moon loose and tagging with black and light. I love it! Your roll continues!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is amazing, your imagination took flight. The plywood attic of dreams, the claw hammer prying the moon, spray-tagging God’s walls. Just brilliant.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. That third stanza! What an image, and the first two lead into it masterfully. I also like the conceit of gravity rotting, a mirror of every adhesive failing and things blowing apart around us, that is whatever we ourselves don’t destroy first with hammer and nihilism. Great writing, qbit.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Oooooh. Totally love this! The imagery just made say “wow” all the way through. The claw hammer under the moon! I can hear that squawk of protest that nails sometimes give. And the ministry of vandals and the tagging of God’s walls. Superb.

    Liked by 1 person

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