Grass Demons
a poem
Black twisted gnarled gristle
Lawn dance and howl whistle
Spew out the fire bile
Hate-wracked the whole while
Teeth gnawing blood-glistened
No time to love-listen.
Can’t rue the damned day
Eternity’s the same way
Dance down the death-glade
Empty with heart spayed.
What’s left is tied taut;
Pain fills the no-thought.
What was the self thing,
Clutched, did this hell bring?
P.F. Hawkins
2010-12-14