mary-groom-hall - Hello Poetry

Remember, he's the golem. Not the god of unending desperation, but only a minion, a ******* child with no inheritance. Don't forget he's the golem in time of dust and whirlwind. Reap it, and weep it, wasted tears for ****** children and **** stars are futile. Recall he's the golem. Stagnant pools have awakened, roaring like tsunamis. Black men shot for no reason, praying in Spanish punishable by death. Reminesce. He's the golem. Golden staircase leads to hell. There is no heaven, only mothers weeping. **** the land, laugh at dying heroes, "Winning." Regret he's the golem. Truth has laid her face against the stone, its cold facade no comfort. The blade descends on liberty. We are her cast-off children.

0

May 18, 2018

May 18, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC

mary-groom-hall

Feet of Clay

Remember, he's the golem. Not the god of unending desperation, but only a minion, a ******* child with no inheritance. Don't forget he's the golem in time of dust and whirlwind. Reap it, and weep it, wasted tears for ****** children and **** stars are futile. Recall he's the golem. Stagnant pools have awakened, roaring like tsunamis. Black men shot for no reason, praying in Spanish punishable by death. Reminesce. He's the golem. Golden staircase leads to hell. There is no heaven, only mothers weeping. **** the land, laugh at dying heroes, "Winning." Regret he's the golem. Truth has laid her face against the stone, its cold facade no comfort. The blade descends on liberty. We are her cast-off children.

35

Just under the skin the water waits, blood pulsing milky veins through the Great Basin, love child of a dying sea. No long grass here, no bison. Only horses at the wedding. Long slow wash of sand births wonder stone. Broken water drinks the desert's tears. Bedding soon becomes a sage's goal, and wiser women often fail us. A single coyote cries below her hill, and waiting, hears the Basin sigh.

0

May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC

mary-groom-hall

The Midwife

Just under the skin the water waits, blood pulsing milky veins through the Great Basin, love child of a dying sea. No long grass here, no bison. Only horses at the wedding. Long slow wash of sand births wonder stone. Broken water drinks the desert's tears. Bedding soon becomes a sage's goal, and wiser women often fail us. A single coyote cries below her hill, and waiting, hears the Basin sigh.

18

A line as slow and undulating as the Tongue marks the horizon. Last summer's fireline shadows the jaw of the sandstone ridge. Broken shards of hand-napped tools litter the path. Sun drops, and bison-dust rises across the plain. One crystal tear slides down the cheek of sky. Nighthawk shrieks, and diving, takes his prey. The Tongue laps far below, ripples over pebbles a song to soothe water monsters who take us after dark.

0

May 6, 2018

May 6, 2018 at 1:22 AM UTC

mary-groom-hall

**** Site

A line as slow and undulating as the Tongue marks the horizon. Last summer's fireline shadows the jaw of the sandstone ridge. Broken shards of hand-napped tools litter the path. Sun drops, and bison-dust rises across the plain. One crystal tear slides down the cheek of sky. Nighthawk shrieks, and diving, takes his prey. The Tongue laps far below, ripples over pebbles a song to soothe water monsters who take us after dark.

15