PROLOGUE: GREEN FEATHERS by Jasen Sousa

PROLOGUE:  GREEN FEATHERS

What’s lost in the streets

without names and owners

eventually finds homes, cuddled

by the flames of loners.

Listen to those who search 

for temporary treasure on the corners 

where weight is exchanged for 

green feathers

that float into the pockets

of invisible street lovers dressed

in urban sweaters, stitched 

with the letters of their real names.

Who you be? 

Who can you be?

Sell more than lies

that were put in your palm.  Search

for the truth like the man who keeps

asking for a refill of the juice 

in his arm.

Check please!

Full, until I am hungry again.  Search 

for nourishment that will fill

the linings of my stomach’s soul for an entire lifetime, 

or at least until the moment gets old.

Inner city mining, digging for punishment.

Do you feel me, how am I supposed to be felt?

Every time I write, live a line,

I wonder if I will tell it in the right way?

Can you hear it the same way I can hear it?

Echoing inside my rib cage, pulsating

down my fingertips.  If I didn’t write it, 

it would never exist.

I guess.

Fresh, like the dozen eggs just placed 

on the shelf, waiting to be cracked open 

to find what’s in one’s self.

First Published

in

Somewhere Lost

Copyright © 2011 by Jasen Sousa

Copyright © All Rights Reserved by J-Rock Publishing

Library of Congress

Cataloging in Publication Data

ISBN  978-0-9714926-7-7