crow
and the days grown cold and
brittle with dust, with the blackened
shells of burned-out buildings
the bills set aside and ignored
the sunlight on dead trees,
on brown hills,
and the shadows of clouds
like the troubled thoughts of god
the telephone poles and power lines
put your faith in these
darker forms of magic
believe in the shotgun your father
kept in his closet, in this boy
bleeding to death out by the interstate
there is enough room in our
torn-open hearts for
all of this pain and more
____________________
holes through me
or the horse in yr
heart swimming through
oceans of pain
or the clocks that tell
only lies
this is you in dali’s room,
the end of the war,
corpses caught in frozen mud
you want them to sing
but the song has no words
you want them to apologize
but the words have no meaning
the mouths are
filled with gravel
with bloodsoaked truths
take the ones you need and
call them yr own
rape the priests who
would do you harm
let their despair be
all you need
