portrait of beth (from memory) late in the season of doubt

the golden dog

or lives controlled by

need and not desire


end of summer and the
                  idea of fear
too large to be ignored

gun held tight in the

fist of christ

taste of gravel and of

              broken glass

cold blue sky over empty parking lots,

over the clean, meaningless lines
                             of gas stations

over the corpses of children

killed by chemical warfare, because
the world is always so much
more than your own small,
                      petty failures

the kingdom of ashes

begins at your door

the missing man is found two weeks

later on some weed-choked
stretch of riverbank
almost eighty miles away

his wife is with her boyfriend

when the news
makes its way back home

even now

the possibilities for joy
                   are endless

the enigma of the dying west

such ordinary fear

landscape w/ flesh & bone

the refusal

shoot the doctor in the

back as he walks away then
tell him he’s a coward while he
dies at your feet

it’s an addiction,

like humor
 

it’s a punchline

you capture the soldier, a

boy of fifteen or sixteen, and
then you torture that fucker
until he’s on the floor in a
pool of his own shit and blood

this is how wars are won

make your children

understand this

tell them how much you hated

your own father,
how much he hated you

show them the scars

explain how they can only

grow up to
repeat your mistakes

blood music 1

mapping the edge of the world

for dawn

knowledge and despair

sincerity

man on fire in

the street holds his
son tightly

confuses love and

hate like a
woman i used to know
 

says all pain is

meant to be shared

says silence is

a gift

nothing left of the

child but
ash and bone

excerpts from NOTES FOR MAGELLAN'S DAUGHTER

* *

 

endless unnumbered pages in the

book of pain and it’s here where you
write your truths and it’s here
you are written on

wars

  yes
and the more complex atrocities
                             of one-on-one

cupped hands

overflowing with blood

take her money

then dig a shallow grave
 

another child’s mother

buried alive
 

a small chapter no one

ever remembers








* *

tongue tied in

holy knots w/
eyes almost
blind he is not
speaking to god
he is not
speaking at all is
not sleeping but
dreaming is not
awake but
falling and he
is standing at
the edge of the
highway and
he is laughing
and she is
almost she is
getting into
the car she is
smiling and
she is crying
and she is
driving away
with the rest
of his life