Sunday, March 13, 2005

more poems and crap


seeped love
through the pores
her heart
pouring over
like wine
and I
just watched.

meet me in the beer hall

Sixteen gathered to interpolate
The thought the change the world
Make it better, cleaner, purer
Curb hyper inflation!
Fix the broken economy!
Solve the world’s problems!
Join us, youth!
Except you bunch
We’ll deal with you later
But soon
Berlin beer halls
nineteen thirty three.

save the collection

Every Tuesday
she collects rocks
Sharp ones and flat ones and round ones
Her fingers
They were weak once
When she was younger
They gathered over her, in the house
empty now, because the woman was gone
They’d say “nine without a mother. terrible.
What’s do now with the girl?”
and her father didn’t know what to do
her favorite subject
on Tuesdays
she collects the rocks
they stay in her pocket


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