Concrete poetry - slither
Murals
Why why why so many murals of hateful things; waves are towering across the town, the moon the moon devours us All good things must die in shame all bad things must live in piece. Even so the nightingale calls with tremors of the earth with roars like engines; Machines digging across the yard Searching for a new earth beneath the soil bones like gold, bones like watches. Time and time again we see the landscape of your forehead beating us like waves; slap, slap, slap of meat. Squirrels rushing to fill the juicy cave with nuts of gold piece after piece after piece of crushed glass cuts at my feet and the blood becomes an ocean. Rubies of glimmering sundrops drop drip drop down to the earth and bones and the creatures that live yet further beneath drip drop drop of blood and rain and sundrops sunlight on the moon moonlight on the gravelled road, the graveyard road peacocks walking their pretty necks outstretched to catch a glimps of the golden deeadlight
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