A victor who riots is no winner
and victories are just cleft timbers
in silent woods. Order perseveres
where men are reduced to fighting
co*ks, and the sound mind lulls
like loose boulders in a ripping creek.
With shoulders bound like flying trout
My angels burrow in collapsing clouds.
Prairie wolves howled these down
And patted them cruelly below, coating them\
in mud. There is nothing uglier
Than browned clouds. Fluttering, a girl
circles an oblong and large aquarium
underneath a sky not unlike a sheet
come loose from a sagging clothesline
or an old donkey's gut drooped
And big with hunger.
Occasionally a drowned mallard
Thuds like a leather raindrop.