Fly by PW Covington

Kick, Punch

Tear at the stucco and concrete walls

Destroy the stalls, just outside the gates

That lie about clarity

I did not intentionally drown in this pit

I just opened my mouth

And the decay rushed in

1988 or 89

It was winter time

I can't remember, exactly, when

I was just a school boy then

Ripping and ranting

Beat

Beat the world, the sky

Beat the streets that hide

Molestations and homicides

Fly

Fly high, and higher still

On wings that Beat

Like poetry in alleys

Like a hustler at orientation

Like a root that's reached the sky

PW Covington is a Pushcart-nominated poet and writer. He writes in the Beat tradition of the North American highway.

   More at www.PWCovington.com