UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
JUSTIN WADE THOMPSON

Walking Across The Room On Fire

I walk across the room
on fire
swatting flames off my skin
like flies.
gnats.
snakes.

pain stuck in my arm
a nest of sparrows
in the bone
red eyed and sharp mouths
scratching.

time drips away
like flesh.
decay.

I walk across the room
on fire
all things burning
the whole world
my shoes my soul my love
my money jobs neighbors
mother father brothers
lovers
work
friends
bartenders
doctors and dentists
the guy on the street
the dogs astray.

flames that put every man
in the ground
and bring every city
to rot.

fire like Buddha. fire
like Christ. fire like Gandhi
Kafka and Joyce.

I walk across the room
on fire.

no water not even song
can save our bodies
make us young again.
forever.
for a moment.
nothing.

everything born
will fall to the grave.

the sparrows have their revenge
on the spider and the spider on the
weevil and weevils on catnip
and a bum smashes another bum's head
with a rock.

and the fire still burns.
and the fire still burns.


Death On Two Legs

death on two legs
crippled. white. red scabbed skin.
staring at the checkout girl
with fat, brown arms

cracking his knuckles
like pulling grapes from the stems.

like chewing on ice. like insect wings.
death on his side, naked.
sucking hard on a bleeding wound
while the electric-yellow light burns
the virgin night, asleep.


justin wade thompson was born in New Braunfels Texas and now
lives humbly in a trailer park in the capitol city of Austin. he has
never pursued a higher education, career, or full-time job. when he is
not writing he travels the country as a touring musician.







2004 - 2009 Underground Voices