With each step floor boards sing out of tune, mice dance
in walls, spiders spin webs as the sun sifts through broken
blinds, glassless remnants of windows. Spindle less banister
leads lurching steps to an attic that no longer contains family
treasures, bats hang from the rafters. Wind whistles through
joists as the house wobbles and front porch bows, a vacant
rocker sways, the last shutter falls to the ground.
He is in the garden on the north side of the house mingled
in the ragweed searching for his tomato plants, carrots that
voided this place years ago. She floats between the broken
clothes lines; searches for clothespins that fell from the now
bottomless canvass bag that hangs on a pole. They meet in
the rutted driveway, fall into each other, disappear from sight.
A lone hound lays on the porch, his coat fading, and his howls
Down the driveway posted along the state highway is a for
sale sign covered in wild flowers, it’s print not viewable and
fading. A man with one eye stands in the highway, his left arm
hangs loosely from its socket, he stares as cars pass through him.
I wanna go to heaven
dance with virgins
leave this hell behind
I wanna live in paradise
sing with angels
I wanna go to heaven
but they won’t let me in
Sun sets slowly in crimson sky, autumnal moon glows as
evening lays down. He kneels on the cold stone floor in
the frigid stone house. Whips his back with leather, asks
for forgiveness that his corrupted prayer will not grant.
He stands, looks into the courtyard where heads are
spiked, a woman is stoned, a man looses his left hand.
His prayers unfulfilled he returns to the floor.
It is more mud than water, green foam grows along the
banks, carp float sideways next to legless frogs. Naked
trees, bark pealing tilt, pull away from soil. He struts
about the camp, barks orders to those who hate him,
glows like the brightest star in his constellation. She nests
adjacent to the boulder, tends to scratches on her arms
legs, runs her hand through matted hair, straightens her
Could I be a Queen?
when you are gone
He comes to me
laughs at you who
lay without legs.
Spits on your bloodless corpse
He cuts his wrists the wrong way, pulls the trigger on
a gun with no rounds, jumps out the window, falls
two floors, bounces off a canopy, lands on an
evergreen. His red nose falls as he runs down the street
in floppy big shoes.
A tin horn rests in the blackened ballast, entrails stretch
along the lines of gleaming metal. A hand that will
never reach out again, a foot with nothing to support, a face
without a skull, eyes rest on spikes of metal.
The naked man saunters along terrazzo floors of the
concourse in search of a mate. No one notices, he
walks out the door into January’s cold. His spear
shrinks into his loins as he covers it with his hands
hides in a bush until they take him away.
Sun shines through station canopy silhouetting him as
he lay on the bench, arm outstretched, duffle bag on
ground. Thousands of people board and detrain all
morning, pass him by as his placid skin highlights
purple lips and eyes.
I’m waiting for a train
it’s late again
I’m traveling to nowhere
in a hurry to arrive
I hear the whistle blow
turn and watch it come
round the bend
I’m on the train to nowhere
and I’m not coming back again.