Poem -

I WRITE FROM MY LOVERS DEATH----AND WAIT FOR MINE

Hungover hanging from the branch
nearest the burning sun
broken down where the gutters swear
and weeping people throw away the cares
shards of dropped glass
all falling from your bloody mary eyes
someone whistles in the crisp stolen dew
and all the clouds try to join in
but im seated on the past
seated on its grin

Hearing the footsteps you tried so hard to hide
and that smoking tint face
which would climb into the blossom
well before it snows

stumbling in ragged dreaming jeans
barefooted on the rich man scheme
Night came in the darkest dance
we blew our only tickets
on a romantic chance
while death has cheated
and the flood remains
my blood is leaving
on a steaming train

forgotten headless tomb
buried between so many saved
I walked past in a dreaded prayer
silent replayed in this my fate
deep and damned
deep in the clay

DEEP DEEPER
IN THE CLAY  xxx

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