The Death of The Dandelions

Underthestarsosodone

 

“Thomas Galt died at his home in this city Friday night last. . . . from the effects of the Ackerman anti-dipsomania gold cure which he was taking. He was 37. . . . he contracted the drink habit and it so obtained the mastery of him that he was much of the time incapacitated for labor. He was so anxious to break the fetters that enslaved him. . . . that he risked and lost his life. . . . He was a great sufferer through the treatment.”
[11/16, Town]

 

The Death of The Dandelions

 

The skill of the motor.

Needs.

Stepping over your birthday candles.

My initials are what they are.

I saw you puking into your mother’s heart.

I saw you puking into your mother’s heart.

Growing from the cement

A dandelion.

Why do you kill everything?

Growing from the cement.

A Dandelion.

I waited for you birthday candles to go to sleep.

And they will.

When a person dies they take all their garbage with them.

These will soon be my heroic moments in little land.

They are burning bride maids

Outside.

 

 

Andyswaves2

 

{Catherine Street. I drove down it twice in one week.}

O Catherine

If beads of

Sweat

Appear appeared

Over your heart.

I pray they to drown you

In the ocean bed

Of

Sea Sponges.

You should be focused dead.

And not in accession.

 

Things will be peaceful.

Or they will not.

The darkness will lift.

Or the light will die.

We will know what we have

Or lose what we got.

I will merge from dark specimens

Filled with love.

 

I have said

At

21

I was raising a son.

Not running off into a darkness to succumb.

I have had enough of finding the wrong.

Something as soft as a

Dandelion

Is what I am.

The children scrawl their sexual needs on the electric walls of a

Net caught in the whale of an uncaring

Bowel.

 

Underthestar2

 

And God is here.

In the passing faces.

I leave a prayer

In every passing one.

Even a potion.

A potion of God.

Protected in the needles of an urchin.

 

2.

If you sacrifice your life

Then

I

Will forgive you.

A child hold. Tsk. Tsk.

I had not that. 

I was consumed.

By sorrow.

Something bigger than

Sorrow.

My people

Left.

When I was quite young.

One empty blanket.

After another.

I became shy.

One’s ear must be tuned to hear the crowd when it dies.

I was too young.

My drums were still

Developing.

I went deaf from death.

Dandelions in the tabernacle of Death.

I was left soundless

Like a flea in

Goat Hair.

Underthepetioningdone

 

I went to work

As

Richard Burton’s

Chamber

Maid.

His bedding smelt of cedar and pencils,

And motor engines

From

His

Playboy

Days.

We never bonded

But he would often say to me,

“Why do you stare so?”

 

I brought him

Cake from the poor.

And

Dandelions

Made from

The

Fat of my daughter’s body.

He read  my poems and useto sing them out, quietly.

Blowing them into the air the way a child blows a dandelion.

Drawing them in

Drawing them out.

He, that is your father, will look upon you, gal,

The same as I.

“Why do you stare so?’

 

Because the bleach that I have used to keep your chambers clean

Has aged my hands and fingers.

Because you are a God.

By mistake.

And you will go far away.

And

My hands will heal, Richard.

 

Underthestarbouy

 

This is a sad hour.

(Her accent is so annoying.)

These are sad hours.

I will rise from bed.

A mixture.

Something of wind.

From the time

The ball is thrown.

 Until it

Is met with a glove.

Or earth.

Your witness

A Dandelion

In the March

Of

Winds.

 

3.

My Nation will not kill you. It will deny your species.

The oath is everywhere. Now.

In the houses

Walls

Glass windows

A child hand’s flows out of the window to fly a paper crane.

The oath is in the bones of my children.

Oath cannot be concealed

Anymore.

What would dress this oath?

In the dreams of the horses that

The children dream about.

The path of man.

Can.

Do anything.

These links and pipes were born connected.

As of limbs

Of

Emotions.

O God.

The Limbs of Rage

Out weigh anything I have ever felt.

I left the swimming pool of

Jane. Jane. Jane. Jane,

Evoke the name

To protrude your way.

The Jew will turn on the furnace

For the death

Of

My Children.

And Jane will take your soul.

I promise you.

 

Revenge.

 

 

Underherprotectiondone