Wyatt, with no insurance on his own head, …
Tom Clark
sleepwalker can never die …
Every day I peruse the box scores for hours …
ephemeral as tinkerbell …
The god of war assured King Arsounas, “Do not be fooled by words. No life is taken. Know that no one was ever born, nor does anyone die.” In the violent mini-eternity of the warrior, combat is conducted according to a ritual formal as song: no one is ever born, no one can ever die. The left-handed rockabilly guitarist whose left arm was severed by an RPG round at Dak To has come back to life in a part of my body that died long before we started to patrol this part of the river of eternal woe. His life is mine though I never lived it. The violent backwash of the rotors is crimsoned by a fine aerosol spray of blood while a loudspeaker amplifies the goddess’ excited laughter. …
Always behind my back I hear …
Don’t hurt the radio for …
The smashed weirdness of the raving cadenzas of God …
Nice spring day off big white cloud …
The angel asked, as his shoulders were pressed into the stone …
Poetry, Wordsworth …
Whoso list to haunt could do worse than to …
Then it was always …