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My family does own some land where the river is wide |
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At night I see my memories dimly dying on the other side |
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I know that I am now all bitterness and tart |
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Anatomy to me is a homesick stomach and a broken heart |
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You rest-stops in the midnight are like friends I've worn to bone |
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I only notice that you're glowing when I'm feeling so ever alone |
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Drunken with the children now too many times to complain |
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Trustful was the mouth I turned into a lustful sopping hole and |
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Now it's nothing but a bathtub drain |
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The Latter-Days are harder than I ever could've known |
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Come back to retrieve me sometime soon |
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If the Latter-Days are ending then I hope I'm ending too |
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And buried someplace where your breath tastes new to me and |
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Always blowing, so my body's bent and bowing |
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Deep into the day's ending in summer |
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The Latter-Days are always panting like a |
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Second-Comer |
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All the fleshy statues of the city-square goodbyes |
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Are flinging smoothe-skin trinities and nakedness |
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Up into my eyes |
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Naked swan-necked girls, your arching backs into the sun |
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The highway ditch's black clouds split the median and |
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Breathing in of all the ribs of every bathing one |
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And in those trash-pit-ponds you bathe and |
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Oh, how you all gleam |
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Mindlessly bright where you're wet in |
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Your eye-lashing, fluid-splashing, rapid-flashing |
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Canal-bleaching dream |
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For me |
