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I.
Underneath the tall, black Cyprus trees They laid my father down to rest. And the stars shone brightly in a sullen sky. A man, entombed, among the best And worst of us; soil is not demanding. Us, that convoluted, striking concept That places all underneath one blanket, Purposeful or purposeless, Where the shuffling noise of uncertainty Brings poor solace to a man on his knees. And where angels refuse to wrestle, a dirt, Trampled on by rain, and by mournful feet,
Condescends to make us all a home. Us, that convoluted place wh
by ~basalganglia
If I writeIf I write more than one poem I have been unfaithful. And if I write nothing I have been a liar and a sloth.If I write
Preferring not, the leper leaves a trail of parts. I reassemble him, stuffing straw into his ears, fashioning his brain from wriggling worms, the kind of worm that infests the writer’s gall and pours out an unsexed maddened lady, paper-maddened stuff, with little words in ink, that calls to man to take fire down from God, lighting the world to chase out rats and ignorance, but also to burn witches.
If I have written something here today, &n
by ~basalganglia
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Yonkers
- Interests: sex
- Favourite band or musician: screaming females, bikini kill, nick cave, tom waits
- Favourite genre of music: riot grrl
- Favourite poet or writer: a. e. hausman
- Email: gsantia1@binghamton.edu
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I set up a Deviant account, but won't be posting for a while. However, I did send you a story via e-mail. Looking forward to checking out your gallery this holiday weekend.
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...and I leave an an
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