Deep within the barracks
the poems written sat
like suicide letters;
blown walls formed smokey havens
as all of their unknown contents
sifted up in smoke,
unspoken, ungiven
not a soul touched
by them. They slept
with the bodies of men
where windows no longer counted
and there was no need for explanation.

Union Of Souls

Under dim lights of winter clouds
buildings strain to stand tall
and the alcohol pours out fluently
from the lips of passers by,
grass patched together an accident.

My dreams torn from childhood
the grass did not suffer,
it merely just died when necessary.

Off in the distance;
the crack of a gunshot, muffled
into the dull red sky
of factories spreading blissful puffs of smoke.
Winter spread ice curb to curb
as kids slapped hockey sticks together
in streets, wood bashing wood.

A father comes home from a long day,
and is surrounded by family like
ants surrounding sugar,
a hole in his pants
from the tugging day,

days continuing on
until red water creeps
from surface to well.

Joseph Veronneau runs Scintillating Publications.
His own poems have appeared in many print and online
magazines, such as Chiron Review, Barbaric Yawp,
Zen Baby, Fearless, Zygote In My Coffee, Thieves Jargon,
Lunatic Chameleon, Lily, and many others.

His website can be found at:

2007 Underground Voices