5/10/2005

Fields strewn with machines rusting,
Poets lurking beside poisoned waters
Sucking empty wine bottles like dried teats,
Carving icons into dead grey flesh.
Sunrise means nothing to us,
Sunset underscores the drag of life.
Blood hosed from sidewalk to sewer;
I will die, too, soon.
Brain cloud glowers, reticent, lingering,
Making flowers black beneath my eye.
Guns and bombs fuck joy.
Love cowers in darkness.
My muse is an accomplice to mass murder.
I feel dirty but where can I wash?

M.Hill