“A scream that’s all dawn.”
- Ferruccio Brugharo
The tropics of my cancer have never known disease
My heaven’s head is severed in a replica of HIV
A death head’s spiral returning to the ground
Its tightens slowly and unravels without a sound
Sam Peckinpah in California prison facial tattoos
Sunsets and horses running into the ocean blue
Emigrated to death row from the scene of the crime
A sixth century weapon used now for the last time
A sister’s lover and wrenched and slow obscenities
Cold cooking oil and Robert Browning’s plea
Knuckles disappear and the face seems to tighten
The phone doesn’t ring and the night seems to brighten
Chorus:
It’s all short quick breaths downstage
Chemical inserted murder on a page
The quilt is a picture of the Buddha child
Unable to smile he sits under a tree awhile
- Chris Mansel
No comments:
Post a Comment