Throw the bottles into the sea
And let the broken pieces lie,
Green and clear as the cutting waves,
Dangerous as the swirling gyre.
Let the shards stud the sand
Until no sand remains
Let these tiny submerged stars
Sink past the threat of pain
Author: Wolf
Born on a farm and never recovered.
funny guy
he always said that it was only funny if it hurt,
and if you aren’t hurting,
no one’s laughing.
he always said that nothing’s true in memories;
that cigarettes and rosebuds leave the same
color on the tongue.
he always said that you couldn’t fix yourself,
and it was all a lesson in laughter,
but what did he know?
he was just a funny guy
Dilemma
I thought of you,
the pain,
the love,
and spoke:
“your time is gonna come”
without connotation.
Three Deaths
I have died three deaths:
The flipping of a tractor down a steep hillside;
The whizz of a bullet fired too wide;
and now, sitting daily, fingers pricking at the keys
this death was promised freely, but billed with heavy fees.
This Horrible Care
I have been loved cruelly and hated gently;
have been struck and burnt and bled from affection and
have been kept free from harm by those who distrust me.
I have known a great few things
and none, ever, of any importance.
I have heard famous men speak of traits and characters-
the same spiel, it seems, touted by antique physiognomers –
and claiming these five traits,
these five ‘mental characteristics’
(slanting, sly noses; stubborn brows)
can tell all of a person.
These famous men are idiots;
lower even than I
who has never known anything of importance.
The Work of Sons
Walk the fields,
feel the earth
plunge deep into the soil
dig up the stones,
pluck up the weeds,
let pour your sweat and toil.
walk the fields,
feel the mud
seeping up between your toes,
Walk the fields,
and scatter seed,
wait,
and see what grows
The Monster
The monster born with many a horn
lays down his heavy crown,
and as he snores he seems to dream
the same as any man.
