The grass knew back then
How easy it was to hitchhike
On shoes and knees

The Oak tree nearby knew
The kisses I gave her
Underneath its leafless
Frame of winter

The village below
Knew me
The time I stole
His peaches from his
Yard

The graffiti of my youth
Covered up
By Vogue and
Chewing gum

There in the little ancient house
With green shingles,
That knew me

Sits grandpa meditating
In front of her picture
Hung from the ceiling
Border with flowers

Over there, past
The wide dusty road
Yellow from the soil
Stood the brutality
That knew me

Can you still smell the cherries
Over the February gunpowder?
Everyone that knew you
Misses you
Your tone, bells in the wind
In front of service

You spoke the same
But I spoke differently
Now
A battered dream in my voice
But the optimism is still there
Still lodged in my throat
The people are still there
The weight of the peaches
On your shirt is still there
Everyone is still there

I could see Montana in your unopened eye lids
Vast valleys in your chlorophyll

Your fingertips dipped in rust
And then you shook them to
Dry

I love your sky Colorado
Split ends that could spilt
Appalachians

I would touch you if I had hands
Rub our rust like tectonic plates
My ridges are cold like Alaska
New England Industry booms me out
Like bullets

But I found you near the Delaware again,
Like I did back in the winter ‘76
Or maybe ‘74

I can’t remember

I hated the combat but I loved the war
Reminds me of yours

Your crashing Colorado
Runs down your spine
The Mississippi would cut through yellow stone

If it could

But

You are dying, I know that now

Like everything else, like Vietnam

I see your red and your white
But where is your blue?
I’ve seen the hands of America

I’ve lost mine too.

I want our words to make love
Let us wine and dine in pen
Ill kiss you from the page
We'll create no biblical sins

So poetic
that my physical is pathetic
I mean I fumble words around you
But when I create, I'm no fool

Subdue you
underneath you
I'll ***** you
Make your feet move

Give you shakespear cues
Show you which way to play
As I write out scenes of love
That last for hours into days

I'm no genius Just a lover
That gets off to syllables
I passion write in purple
Cause the red is full of bulls

Let our I's Collide
As we make human i Ts
Saving Graces for our diner
for in each other we both feed

I'm sure to say I do
If you read a little deeper
But don't read too fast
‘cause I'm know to be a sleeper

Silence is my killer
Verbal language is my gun
As I have no set targets
go on killing sprees for fun

Im a ******
Leaving men lifeless in bedrooms
Bathrooms, car seats, tee pees and Breakrooms
Let us have a pow wow

For I'll empty life into you
Birth a new princess
All in the way she touched you
While leaving no finger prints

Let Our words
make Love
Feel Death
and Receive Life

For I Created this to tell you
I want your soul tonight
but every time you'll read this
You'll know that love is Write



anon & m.g.

He strutted down the hall with confidence.
His crooked smile reverberated goosebumps along my bare arms.
His deep soothing laugh drew me to the heaven light.
His blue grey eyes held secrets of pain that made my heart scream for him.
His foolish jokes made my frozen frown thaw.
It was not till his warm hand brushed mine that I knew I had oblivious eyes.
I had fallen for this gorgeous human being without knowing.

-Susan

Slowly circling chains

forged with deceit,

hammered out with contempt

are fitted for us.

Freedom bleeds upon

the ground of history

The lifeblood of our nation

darkly pools

As we lay dying

Our choice will be

the chain or the sword

Let my blood bleed

Let me fall

As I will die free

I wanted to write/type/say
exactly how/what/why
I felt
but somehow
the paper/screen/air/mouth
stayed pure and empty
somehow it could not
have described it
any better

Stiff-spined pigs clawing at shins,
thighs, torso; arms and head.
Effervescent atoms spit
from pressurised cans
to clouded, burning eyes.
Batons drop, judging
my ever rolling sins;
breaking bland sheet
of skin into blue, black,
red, swelling  purple canvas:
mounds of flesh,
batted time and time again.
Arm twisted, mud faced being, sinking.
Face first dirt. Cuffed, bony wrists
annoy broken-back shoulders:
unforeseen angles.
Frustrated muscles stretch
bemused tendons.
Freedom demolished,
kicking screams provoke
further chest knocks,
ambushed four to one
your body flops;
sagging over tight-gripped,
blue and black jackets,
helmets, batons, badges.
Tossed to the backseat;
prisoner of the siren.