Runaway

silver rivers
golden night
the pulse of the moon
stills the breath
of a man

who runs on puffed feet
and shredded sneakers

the linen of his clothes
a flaming orange
that seems to scream out
in the night
louder than bloodhounds

his black mossy hands
guide him thru waters
and over borders

though the haunt of sirens
hangs upon his back


--J. J. Johnson (25)

Monday 2/21/00