Golden Dragon Massacre

Hell: a white bowl
in shards, soup

drips to the floor.
Sun through the door.

Brown linoleum,
puddled blood.

A wisp of smoke
from a spent brass shell.

Wooden Man

Skeletal, twelve twigs
tied, strings
wrapped at the joints.

A wooden man
hangs from a tree
mottled brown

Against dark northern greenery.
He swings, catching the wind
again and again and again.

Nerves

Some unclean thing
has seen into my soul.

I am sick with it --
its many reptile faces,

Its cold, dead eye.
Its lips clap together

and his many minions
tear my body to shreds.

Bless us, oh Father,
forgive us our sins.

Give me back to the angels
though I have grown thin.

Lion In Rut

One tawny paw
massive as a child
rests velvet
on a straw-colored back.

He is in his prime.
He roars, and she submits.
It fits like a fist
in a glove.

Love on the hot savannah,
a wild rutting
and steaming meat.
A feast.

A Little Bit of Truth To It

Have you finally wearied
of the firing squad?

Whatever their excuses,
they and their bullets bore me. I look forward

To surprises for once.
People can still surprise me.

Number

A friendly face,
a warm place:
reminders of tears I've shed

At kindnesses shown me.
The bumblebee
swerves to miss flailing

arms, fat little arms
of the children we once were.
Loneliness had yet to meet us.

This winter the government
sent no checks. The line
outside St. Anthony's is alive

with hubbub and rapport.
Slop, salad and a bit of bread,
the prayer of St. Francis above the door.

Do not scorn me. You are bored
with the silence in my head.
Sit a while and let it sink in.

List

The psychopaths' campaign of lies
Aimed at the gaping hole in my side.

Mockeries of thoughts I've had.
A man's face falls. He is sad

To see what I should never know:
Scarlet droplets on blank snow.