t e m p o r a l
d o o r w a y
Death Of A Good Man
| The blue rolls about him as he peers down the sky Across metal soft surfaces which stick to your hands And candy whisper clouds cross in the (v) alleys Fighting and dividing Billowing; exploding in silence/ We fight in the bowels of autumn. Clamps on our nose, plugs in our ear, with our portable walls for the concealment of solitude. Geraniums peer around a corner cutting her neck on the bloody sharp wall. The moon is held up by a shadow. Our hope is alive as the sliding glass plates on slickery sharp edges explore our viscera with splinters tearing liquid sounds from our lungs As we bleed and weep From the depths of the crisp, cold autumn city you android 1977 |