Tuesday, June 13, 2006

The New Moses

- for Michael Burns

High up on the mountain, he screams
for a Big Mac, holding an ice pick,
breathing thin air - a lady is a thought

and love was a glass of Chianti; red
roses in a vase. A dream? No, hungry
and lost on an old path - lettuce

and patties of meat - a special sauce
for the back of the throat, he parts
the mountain - the new Moses

wants a Biggie Sized covenant swinging
his pick, an avalanche - a prayer.


H. W. Alexy said...

Interesting pov in this poem, makes one think, which is good. Just one thought, the first strophe—I might keep it all in the present tense.


James said...

Thanks Helm for the advice. I have put it all in third person - the first strophe was a little distant with the universal "a man." I appreciate the comments. I also didn't capitalize Chianti and I mispelled Covenant, which I have now fixed. Ah, I'm getting lazy! Thanks again.

Kerry James Evans