Winter Coals
Fear chokes the roots, I've bloomed in despair before, Put your writer hands on my back, The winter coals of repair Is my least-worthy madness.
Vastness unfolds in the bile Of backroads, Viscera tumbles where I've Watched you sleep and the roadkill Brushes like rain on the automatic panes Pecked of a crime The kill, and the killers remain in remains, And strapping the pavement in headlights, I'd fry on the fissured blacktop, If you'd split your lips and laugh at it.
Country of uncommon security Provoking temptation, And timeless In the sense that a river runs dry To the bones over here.
















