this writing appears in the Mark Fleury 2010 poetry book In Your Heart, the Apostrophe’s Teardrops of God now available for only 10⁰⁰

enjoy this Mark Fleury writing in the 6" x 9" 2015 ISBN# paperback collection book Seeing Strangers			Enjoy this compilation book in Scars’ Mark Fleury poetry book (of THREE books!) as a 6" x 9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book! Click on the cover or any linked text for the book Seeing Strangers

Led Astray, I Was

Mark Fleury

Led astray, I was,
Into a library of hitchhikers

Making their way to one stage
For each book read,

Where centers are apple cores

In smiles they’d share

For ways home.
Hunger aside though,

Each side of the stage
Turns out to be an ear

And the seeds just what they’ll grow
As knowledge of one’s own heart wanes.

So furthest in is what my feet
Walk on toward wanting to stay
Up all night to be laughed at
By not knowing where to touch

While dancing with the popular
Gossip in my own head.
Couldn’t get out of the acting,

Swimming in shallow water,
Even after tiring of fast food,
Just witnessing the eating
Of it, while my mind hunted

Gold in sand, left me staring
At the ass of Christmas,

Theaters growing from my center-
Staged fruit tree: crunched in the
Mouths of made-up faces.

And writers and directors,
Unable to find the consumed

Buildings, go out fishing for

Angels to guard against loss
Of cores. Yet the golden thread

Too is a stage. I mean even though
Demon to Angel isn’t fast food, the
Hunger’s the same, feels real.

And exiting either right or left,
There’s a sheen on the water

Through which the gold searcher
Is pulled onto the stage, the
Roots. Seed of noon in midnight.

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