Morbid’s children sinking into smoked
grass
lit up as the interchange gate guillotines
along an unthinking trellis of dissolved
atoms, unleafed wood and Fahrenheit
negates a proof of life for the season is a
starving watch
wind
gauges violently spun apart the long walk
in-between mesrine doors where electric-
ity flags erratic the white linens that drape
these little selfish monsters
following the emblazoned candle skulls
The injured Northwestern’s lamp x-rays
fearfully through the fog like a lost UFO
effectuates black steam from its flapping
nostril. Ancient thunder
of a million bison trampling the low brush
releases the sling shot clouds that had
been nesting high in the sycamore waiting
to ambush the moonlight
forcing dogs to
squirm through autumn-stripped caches
of butcher meat dragging their entrails
Caught on the railroad switch, mascara’d
in coal dust
spooned out that floats alone free of dust
the eyeballs of eyeless murders who hide
behind windows to which children flock
symonds
family
angels
pray
pick up a stick
scrawl them in the clay
name
numbers
birthdate
friends
unfold some paper
and ink them in
nine ten eleven twelve
jimmy’s bones dance
around the funeral bells
as always a huge and rich range of references and imagery, Yarbrough...