• Bird Flew

    Bird Flew for Robert Trammell silent as sentient shade a colossal crow wheels golden eye over Mecca and drops something it has stolen from its beak sometimes when I walk down the Lakewood’s sloping sidewalks I see your reincarnated corpse skin shriveled as a shaved scrotum ants crawling over unblinking eye and I stand here…

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  • As If

    As If  for Robert Trammell As if the breath of a poet could resurrect the dead bird silently decomposing in the slate colored street. The curb ascends, a tombstone for so much road kill; a squirrel here, a cat there, somebody’s whistling calling a dog that cannot answer but this mourning the bird with Verona…

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  • One Time In The Corner Tonight there will be no lies about how your perfect breasts are full as the moon. Nothing from the night sky has fallen into your eyes. The lie of the metaphor is no more desirable than the lie of omission. “I do not know which I prefer” the beautiful lie…

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  • Dead Baby Blue

    Dead Baby Blue for Robert Trammell Beware, Life is not a dream even when dead birds lying drunkenly in the gutter suddenly straighten Verona feathers stand on broken feet of poems vomit a gut full of idealistic maggots eyes swimming against the … bone, (alabaster, ivory, eggshell, porcelain, pearl,) undertow of parasitic insights bitch-slap the…

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  • Love in the Time of Corona  with apologies to Márquez   “I don’t believe in God, but I’m afraid of Him.”  I break my tongue  in prayer like a pagan Pilgrim  little deaths in the wake of obliteration “Kneel before the object of our liberation” Drink from the fountain over the temple’s door They ain’t got…

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  • No More Moon Dreams

    No More Moon Dreams  The Moon !  The Moon !  The bloody moon  It’s about to drive me bloody loon.  My heart, my heart, my broken heart  You may as well ignite your farts.  And when was the last time you rode a horse  Or wrote a line in you own voice?  Someone dead and…

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  • I have lived long enough that I have become a stranger to myself many times. I read a few poems in an old chap book. Poetry the soul remains from the ashes of that man.

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