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
comforted
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