By J.J. Tindall
Illumination
I strove to summon the gods
with cliches of madness. Pose after pose, put on after put on,
point of view after
point of view.
Then the Old Post Office became a sphinx
in a late dawn
lavender. Merely a vision,
not madness.
A reflex of imagination
from a cache of anger.
Anger, not madness.
To feel illuminated by the force of God’s will.
To reel, exhumed.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Music: MySpace page
* Fiction: A Hole To China
* Critical biography at e-poets.net
Posted on October 15, 2009