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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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DUNCAN FANKBONER
not the buddha Johnny Utah sat still on the head waiting for the birth of one long warm turd later that day after the sun rose he felt down and lay low on his bed with the shades drawn in the night a storm filled the sky and lightening shone and thunder saw it and felt a little envious even though he didn't know the lightening had listened for his moan Johnny left home that night and rode on a train deep into the east passing many atomic particles of air he would not come back nor were there any memories of the place he had left not of home or the city not of anything not even you the brown dog chains of mourning drag me to the sea what better place than with my father startled cries of sea birds a scythe of moon etched in blue air white foam hissing past dead hands the breaths of living things stalks of sea grass stuck to the chin my god I wonder what crimes I've done up the quay a brown dog gambols at sea froths water lights dazzle blind looking down to waters edge a bottle black boots naked feet all but sand drowned |
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© 2007 Underground Voices |
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