I was able to take the old north of town
Passing down the canyon,
green and purple hats float–
lifelong rags and two young matadors.
Carried by cameras to a bed,
one cried fence into a footpath.
The other was a clean shaven finger.
They cut cradle and farm,
confused in the winter neck,
venting their anger of fat men.
I shot at them with cranes,
a point of life, white hair down,
and tightened in the shoulders.
Shot into matador fields,
immediately held aloft,
hunting the delicate centers.
They contracted the creek
where I fed on their heads.
In amazement had feeling.
This poem originally appeared in The Grave of the Great Alley of Clarity Cats, an anthology of poetry written by Mike Giardina. The complete the anthology is available below:
Table of contents:
- Sun Shine Body
- On arrival in a lot of no civilization and plenty of letters,
- The unable to deliver
- An upwards slanted walk
- A familiar voice
- Those who have a standard way of going
- Left each chapter within us
- Warm smile not found in her cigarette
- To regain his composure for figures
- Food for rejecting his feet
- Even during--even if it during
- Lying on the floor, stretched after stir
- A soldier frames the wall
- A step by boulder
- A train by life station
- I was able to take the old north of town
- Bradbury's closet
- A mummy's leggings
- Sipping mother's sweat
- Flash like an individual there
- I realize the skyline while playing catch with mother's death
- Running far away from a city, to return a week later
- Carried the clock over
- We have been meeting years
- Chocolate Italian princess
- Champion of Years
- "How much longer will I be able to remount the mothproof thrusting..."
- Over as rivers are over