Below is a hand written draft of the poem Baltimore III that belongs to a recent poem collection Slow Frays Upon A Maryland Dusk. A book about Maryland, sort. Possibly Naive. Simultaneous present archaeology. Lyical poems. Where one becomes many. The refractions of stories. A work in progress. Naive. Naive cruelties. Also below are a couple of more rough drafts.
and if the air shattered
and the glass was not replaced--
Bones outlast the meat
ask the chicken bones the rats drag off
and gnaw upon neath dark city bushes.
songs git forgotten
birds outlast songs--
feathers outlast birds
how my brothers growl
amongst the bone yard of dog days
Axe moon? why don't ya swing on down?
and strangers slamming doors
in the dark hallway at three a.m
watch tha blue flash police beams refract
thru tha dark bedroom
Billie Holiday cryin and tha radio ain't on.
Greemount Cemetery City Graveyardings
I lost 50 bucks
in the cemetery. Or wasz it
Ghosts of young women roosting
Light polishes ghost eyes--wives
of past lives--
unfolding terse card game
spilled liquor is like crying over spilled milk.
Little Melvin Peanut is the King of all the Gangsters
He directs the automatics of figures.
Cattle car death fog bottom bright/blithe
tha heroin slope slouch folks
guy rubs his skinny ass crevice on
top of tha fire hydrant
plastic dollar store soldiers
on 4four year old Tommy's grave site
Father slices his left bare foot
on a broken beer bottle
webbing thar to here
Good rains thunder
(maybe there will be a hard collection of these poems)