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
