#boxcar
We spread our blanket on uneven
ground, bodies embracing in descent,
They lay on the boxcar floor,
fingers twisted, clutching slats.
Transfixed by the spell of evening,
limbs entwined, interlaced,
Barbed wire punctured palms
faces creased as in old photographs.
We stretched in dawn’s light,
poured coffee out of cups,
and left as it merged with the dust.
Bones upheave ground
unsheathed fingers
clotted with soil.
Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
all your time putting worth on work
while the world dies and the hurt just surfs
blood and tide being pulled by night
cleansing cycles of moonlight
I can't mourn from a lesson learned
pigs demise at the end of the knife
at the end of the of the knife
at the end of the of the knife
I sit at the edge of the the knife
mourn from the lesson learned
all your time
make the money
I roll the nickels
yes you see this game it is mine
street flows full of blood
yes it flows with the blood of the swine
I'm a ***** a *** a hobo, a box car and jug of wine
bad and good they go together
must except one to understand the other
you see that everyone will have their day to die
just give it time
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC