Lin Geary
Lin Geary of
below out of the sticky bombs, stones and all, all gone back to war, those men now stuttering their first small cry this blood once roses and the scent of longing till some stranger child hardly sister slings eye forever eye, this tooth for small envies becoming war running blood along a gun yet the blood the sister spends won’t be shed that way moon-blood cursed to quiet silent in the brooding silent such at moon-rise puts men in rows and gives them so orderly a rage for rag-stopped blood in their winsome silence yet the moon and the moon oh the moon reeling in the poppies
gallows song
almost a tree, a scene through a frame
overlooking a grave beside the sea,
whose sap and bones are riven for wood
who-eeee, who-eeee...
forward and back the saw sees
as seven crows build in the boughs
craven and craw shall notice things
what-seeee, what-seeee...
that the wind bowls close
and the wind bowls far
till an apple falls and a house caves
how-yaaaa, how-yaaaa...
or the straw drops as a wagon calls
and a chair walks till another chair falls
and two of us cross to the other side
where-fore, where-fore...
oh, to sit with blankets and boxes of tea
but best you know not when though
but best you know not when…
aaaah-so, aaaah-so, but whyyyy...?
hang time four of them up there each pinned we think to some other corner on the oblong field sewn to their places news of their transit hanging shadowless & even like a clear yellow day yet their coats hanging artless to the bottom of the poles black but who’s watching under four hats the chatter through the eye money through the nostril breathing up money till the fields are empty flatter than tomorrow & swanning down songs just four-square crows cornered & kicking at their tattered poles hardy scare-tactic in pinch/bite light orange turning red then green then blue say they can’t come down leave their tall posts & can’t throw shadows to the whine kept sea just lifers keeping talents and up with their bootstraps and kites for strings for kites four huckster cacti who just say maybe maybe this maybe not then turn on the klieg-lights & roll out the laughter & fold it like scarves into small rolling boxes... all four directions making off with the night
