Issue
 #26 

April
2013


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a poem by Mather Schneider

IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW

who you are, being
a thousand different people
in a day.
Asshole to one,
lover to another,
the subjectivity of blood,
the fickle drum
of mood, the gazillion
shades of gray.

It is a hot desert day
in a purple robe
and clarity is an ice sculpture
that melts
at 111 degrees.

The questions are backwards,
the answers are scotch-taped
and out of charge.

The curtains billow
in my window
after a long day of driving
those heartbreaking streets.
These curtains are different
each moment
like the cracks in the streets
and the cracks in my face.

Even the silent cowboys and Indians
on the picture on my wall
age and change

and nothing
will be
still.

© by Mather Schneider
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #26 ~ April 2013