Under the sledge,
Drums of waste, fruitful waste cavorting
to the transom. Weak wet-kneed belligerence
tinder in the forest dream. Soon this too
will be on fire.
Drums of casket ashes
Drums of wedding vows
stinging waves
cover their barnacled wrists
to hide the shame of it. Ensues
the vacating, the renter’s paradigm.
Meet out the measure of time, one saw
draws across the hope, perilous hope
of clearing the contaminants.
The other, the exhaling saw-stroke,
watches TV on the broken-in couch.
nothing is too sacred.
Exhale to drum
bleat, ash to drum,
steam light & fume-
watch, the wisdom of the drum.
Down in the fish-well the drum, ribbed
luminous monument, forever left of tide
smears its front with dribble, waxes
to the ride.
Soon, even this will be on fire.
2 comments:
another great one, snodgrass. books coming out any time soon?
I have two books you can get on amazon: "monster zero" and "the underflower"
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