Monday, June 15, 2015

dreaming america

the streets all smeared white on
sunday morning
and the sunlight without end

the names of the dead
written down then forgotten

what they sound like is silence

like human bones falling
from the sky

the shadows they cast on
empty fields

bare trees rising up
out of black water on the
edges of all the worthless towns
i've ever lived in

all of the people i've left behind

the ones i've
been left behind by

and what our words
eventually form are maps
but none of the missing are found
and none of the beaten

and your sister finds
a new lover

forgets the
names of her children

their faces

mistakes desperation for love

nothing any of us haven't
done at some point

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