September 23, 2009

a slave to
the rich, arched and
flat backs
stare blankly at
themselves in mirrors


she pulled me
out of the darkness, winter
painted me into


take the gift
i bought for you . . .
burn a bridge
and watch the ashes
take my shape



before dawn . . .
look for a cloud
to water


i'm on a
toilet bowl without
a lid
watching the sun set
between a rat's legs


thick legs . . .
an ice covered
river


a cloud, she
hovers over me
breathing
the same breath
the same breath


night walk . . .
a blues harp among
gravestones


moonless night . . .
disembodied eyes stare
at the white
man walking through a
dragon's intestines


what are mirrors
to a laborer
picking rice?



she sips
brandy tonight
with the
leftover dream
she never pursued


late night . . .
hoping the moon will
lead you home


listening
to the party at
McDonalds,
calls to mind easter
sundays in a rest home


summer rain . . .
even the roosters
whisper


the light rail
carries passengers
into a
galaxy that has
no time for words


will the
song in my heart
scatter stars?


the dragon's
feces flows through
my veins
pulling me deeper
into madness



paint me
kindly, summer wind . . .
steeping tea


robert d. wilson

©2009