Saturday, March 5, 2011

cross country




in red weather we stole

the postman's letters

covered in tears and wine

the black wolves forming


a line at the base of the camp

we carried our mace

at all times, the rain coming

down in black sheets my


hair had started to grow

back like leaves thwarted

on a dead tree. out in the wind

you called me on your cell


phone. a baby tiger curled

into your bed all crazy

bad breath in your face

my parole having just come


through. the cable guy

never showed, i was able

and we were left holding

the bill. far out at sea




1 comment:

Kacey said...

out at sea

a missing vessel -
tigers, monkeys, and birds,
all for gold ?

tangled in the lair,
tattered and scratching each other,
both babies
taking refuge alone,
together

breathing painful
warmth – the door
always shutting

repetitive boot noises close in,
moving closer to each
other only
to know absolutely nothing.

unreeling chains splash, the boat jerks,
forgiving the thieves, questioning the wolves and the cable guy

PS - alot of bad breath out there

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