What Became Known as the Early Years

okay. so, apps due in a matter of days. two days to be precise.
here we go:

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through the winding stretch of highway I see only Your face
how the american flag just pops
in the grayish green of the northern hills

hypothetical old men standing at the edge of the road
scarred with calloses
smile at themselves
and I,
only a second in their lives

they run ahead
speckeled with livestock
tin roofs, rotting wood
A world sealed with rust

through the winding stretch of highway
I see only Your face


Thinking Too Much

I long to scrawl down an idea
That you could yearn to not grow weary of

Shouting
Go away
in my head I ask God
To shut up and make immobile
The rednecks at my side

For the sweet "my loves" of Mark Cox's Grain
Still pulse in my chest

And I am ashamed
To be able
To think uninterupted
For hours on end

I sit and fear and think
That I am forgetting what your voice sounds like

For what sadness
to forget how Mamie Morgan reads

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Yesterday they showed me a cat skeleton
Hovering in the water
Like it had the decency not to float to the top

My heart threw up at the sight of it
And the boy sewed his staff through the empty ribcage
He pulled
The bones snapped effortlessly
Like old rubber bands

The boy now screams in a room down the hall
Because he indulges too heavily in inconvience
My hand fits itself around Casey's shoulder
I slide it to his stomach
My fingers trace his ribcage

And pull the shivering, soot-colored pup
Closer to me
So that he rests against my thigh

I pull him in
Thinking of how he will soon become that skeleton
And so will I



more later.