Sunday, September 9, 2012

Reproach

The sky looks strict.
Precise.
It says:
Look at me!
I am clear.
Blue.
My clouds are shaprly white.
And you?
You -- are smeared.
Indefinite.
Trite.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Veteran of An Afghan War


i've seen newborn babies' heads
roll like dice
what do you want from me?
words of compassion? gestures of love?
if it were up to me you'd be hanging like christ
on a fucking cross only upside down.
and i said: that was peter he died like that.
and he said: YOU don't know the dead. 
i ve seen women's wombs carved out
like etchings in wood
intricate. raw.
don't speak to me of any evil and good.
you whore.