Saturday, November 27, 2010

In A Darkened Wood

Circe 430

I suppose this was a place
where money changed hands
like the night
hangs down to be
taken by pickpockets, by vultures
and old thieves
all that's left are the poison wings
(yes, I know, papa,)
there, where the sweet souls were drawn,
we will place the spectacle
spend the silent sin
and vanish like
the god of Abraham who
demanded a son
but took a running nose instead
what kind of god is that?
we will find our weak truths
running with dogs
smoking with the drunks
standing outside.

1 comment:

Richard Ewing said...

Very satisfying argument on the horse drawing. Don't roll it in though, it may be loaded with Mao Zedongs and Nikita Khrushchevs...
Nicely organized clutter.