Monday 4/16/2012 12:29:00 AM

portions of when. skeleton dictators. and the despot between her legs. small wars always have the largest consequences. butterflies on their leashes. still bite down hard.

tremors. near enough to the edge. gravity. like some sweet cancer. he we are. dying all over again.

the road. in creases of yellow and white. limits on how fast. frenzies of how slow. the metal. the elements. the physics. of knowing. how much farther there still is to go. broken clowns. with their smiles in their fists. so red. so simple. the stalled cartograpby of skin.

nowhere to go. and everywhere to see. the spinning top. the choke of the arithmetic. subtracting each moment.

the pulse of the lie. beating loud in her chest. the whisper of the truth. delicate raindrops on thick windows. monsters emerging from under her fingernails. stubborn flesh. assuming it knows the villains within.

small pebbles. eager poets. overcome with more words than meaning. something small.

Steep hills. the bottom so loud.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.