The dead
are the whole sky
shining and raining
down upon us.
That poor lady
her two kids got hit
by a car on this road
so she put up these two dolls
and changes their clothes daily.
Some of the cows
at the feeding trough are babies
and I wonder what They’ll do with them.
This bitter Earth
how sweet the sound
that saved a Wreck like me.
The church has a smokestack,
a Mexican is staring
I’d be better off knee-deep, on my back;
my pulchritude is tearing.
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