12.10.2003

Words for the Fallen

I
The graves, the graves,
of so many (heros and victims
and murderers, all laid out
side by side by side

on the pavement in the glowingdark,
the still-pulse of retired corpses
waning in the darkling sparkle
of the onrushing, hurtling

(as in a mind-arousing scream
or blood-spitting knife wound)
sunset, ruptured by our steel
and fire, eager to bury

the fingers and toes reaching
through the soft humusitic soil)
speak of the travesties,
the inhumanity to man,

the self-indulgent, the self-satisfying,
in spite of other voices
a grave should never
have had to bear.

II
And by foot
upon that grave
I mean
imprint of
unfounded anger
yoked
as oxen to
plow till grind
the earth
where our
flesh will someday
rest
through
rubber and canvas
to tears
that soften
dampen the
brown brown
earth.

III
oh how subtle and mischevious
we
can be how unrelenting
how
undermining despite all the mining
put
to us to make us so a-
live
so un-accursed but we
have
become a log in another's
eye
an enjambment in a society
just
looking waiting maybe hoping
to
be enjambed oh Savior
oh
Saviored ones who flee
the
ninety-nine and make
a
hand come find you

IV
It wasn't that we hoped
To live some outpaced distance.
We liked the evening sky

Too much. We liked the star-
Tide drawing us in to where
The undertow drags us away

To dark & vast depths
Of something once called sleep
Once called dream, and there,

In the predawn postdusk
Quickly blackening haze,
We lose a certain self

That's still stretching,
Like having just slept,
Toward light not coming.

Well, unfortunately this program is too good at fixing errors because the spacing on this one is significantly different in some parts but the software left justified it all. Oh well.