sun corner

This morning like all morning afters
I am fading denial from my eyes
cross-country undersea submersibles
waiting in nerve sewers
for the command to leak
speaking intangible ghost bubbles
promising forevers with fingers and spit
but denying all with eyes and lips
so red
what am i to do with this silence
that hangs like battle axes
weight like wine, heavy
on my mind
and waiting for drop the queen's head
wicker basket woven in blood
the endless children of summer
parceled out in fountain packages
a dollar a piece
a dollar for a year of your youth
the old corns of winter witchery weeping
matrons of autumn barking their wares
a dollar a piece
a dollar for a year of his youth
and the infants of spring waiting wide-eyed
and soundless
little faces bloodless in fright
for thier mothers have become
those ghoulish hounds of war
and night.
what am i to do with this silence
what am i to do
with this.