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Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
Megatons and major-broads
and Cincinnati firing squads
lined the street
with punctured feet
and shot the skies with mushroom eyes.
Art and Dan and some dead man
hid inside a garbage can, while
gold platoons
with silver spoons
lowered down the has-been town.
The grill and bars and several cars
burned and sparked and crashed and parked
as life, so frail, went straight to hell
wrapped up in the ceiling war.
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
The old shoestring
     Ragged and frayed;
Age showing in each
     Interwoven thread
Finally, after years
     Of stress,
     Snapping into a
     Short, useless
     Stub.
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
You are the fourth nail
dull, crooked and corroded
piercing the watery heart
pushing through the spine
splintering the wood
delivering the poison like
a Golgotha adder
dancing on the stone and
kicking the crown
Your rituals are performed in
robes dragging the ground
The work of your hands betray
you like a ***** bride
The children starve while
you eat the lamb
and lie with the calf
I never knew you.
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
i can see you
    i can't
as you stand
        there
not in front of me

where are you
         now while i
   caress your
body days away
  and kiss
the distance
   on your lips—
come
          go
             st  ay
          a rriv e

               dePar t
    hold on to
      my hand
    tightly

        centuries
     in the
          future
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
You, traced in red,
     thick paint outline
grasping for her,
     a specter in
       the emerald vapor.
     What is that look—
          pleasure or
     grey death?

Mirror sisters
in ashen gowns
hanging loosely over
translucent skin.

A bond deeper than
     skeleton— love
     and hate passed
    through haunted
          touch.
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
If I could slice
a still moment
   out of moving life,
I would carve
an ample piece of
   that one time
and place it under
a crystal dome—
   gazing daily
at its deliciousness
until temptation
   finally cracks me
and I burst it
from its detention,
   devouring it
like a brown bear
at a honey tree.
Rick Baldwin Feb 2020
I release them. Fledglings
pushed from the nest,
thin-skinned and chirping.
Constantly on guard for
the cat and coyote.

Skipping from tall grass
to bush until there is
enough strength to fly
and feed alone.

They build their
nests in hidden hearts
of those who discover them
and sing sweet songs
to the ears that hear.
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