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The
Killing Machine
The
Our Father
Daddy
Long-Legs
Moves ToThe City
Desperation
Show
the
burning jar
nosferatu
american
gothic
the
presents of loss
ourselves
forsaken
our
killing machine
salamander
pond
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the presents
of loss
The presents of
loss, valid as hunger, are packages sent UPS on birthdays--wrapped
in bright cellophane color but containing nothing. Unwrapping them
makes the time pass too slowly--I slowly pass the time with head
in hands in front of the window wishing I could turn the pavement
into wine. Down the street someone's radio blares rap. It screeches
oddly through the rabid laughter of the birds.
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