Chuck Kindle

 

And if my eyes melt away before I see you again

any word of grief will heal the sonic wound and if
Karl Marx meets me on a London streetcorner to confess
the futility of math a sidewalk heart
will I hear it with my left ear and stagger off alone
in nomine patre children in his overcoat in nomine
morte comrade
god donít need a good vein or a bad wife or permission
to disseminate his leaflets at the market door
asi es la vida
fuck.

 

Iíve seen the open mouths of the toothless hordes

scrambling across the European plain under a low sky
Iíve seen tracer fire over Bethlehem and exclaimed fuck
the city is a cesspool baby your little sisterís secret fear
even to think the words Satanís spawn is banal
my wives have been tombs black of eye
crying in the rain where tears die whose pendulum heart
swings across abyss
like the rope above the swamp and the man on the rope
his swollen tongue and a nation unmoved
trackmarks for my baby
up and down her crooked arms that she know peace
crackburns on her collagen lips godís world
is a whore in death is a barren womb is the desert sky
is no way to greet your mother.

I dreamed the babies again last night ma
splintered on my windshield Jonbenet
all alone.

 


     I'm a 38 year old twice divorced father of two who has mangled english for more than 20 years. I've published in imp, woodenhead, and speakeasy. the few chaps I once had are long gone as i've been in hiding for at least this millenium.


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