September 3, 2011   3 notes 



mechanized world just outside the knob
there was sadness, smog and wind
on her face as she walked 
to her vehicle
televised sleep, screen saved
and self-assured
it will be there to be seen again
tomorrow

clocks on clocks on walls behind
yards
and steel locks that keep bullet drafts out
secrecy rusts hinges of neighbors
there is no pension for the suburban ghosts

level heads leaven the land
and its hills are ground into
vertical dust
lights sprung on its surface
with constructive violence
number three sixty five

lacerations

sliced, and still benign
plastic bags sleep under the sink
with the cleaning drugs
our enemies are comfortable
blue wallpaper
sheets
and walls

can't shake the feeling
all alone
rooms fill of energetic, exploited junk
they don't speak
but spit plenty of valence and silver
lying ions

payed the tool as we cross the ledge
predictably.
one thing will out win
the other

its course is lost to us
beneath this paralyzed highway
i walked to your door,
read the numbers
without the keys in my hand


_____
January 20, 1998
Poem: "One Three Two"
Writer: Stanley Gemmell

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