THE JUGGLERS

Your intuition is jammed like radar on the shore.
You can't read the signals through the aluminum foil.
The craziness of mixed signals
Is a surprise
That doesn't provide the solidity of answers.
Around the automatic fire house a hose is putting out
The flames.
You have meant less than the afternoon
And more than the evening.
I am juggling stars to see if light is permanent
Or a streak.
I play with levers to see if I can lift locations
Or rise to the occasion.

David Lawrence has published over four hundred poems. New book, Lane Changes by Four Way Books.

Email: David Lawrence

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