Hide Bound

(September 18, 1986)

I wrote a thing the other day
I halfway liked —
Or more than halfing the other day
I halfway liked —
Or more than half
If truth were known
And stopped myself
In my tracks
Dead
From writing any more.

In some way
It has connections
With the reasons my feet
Burn like fire
And my skin feels hot
Underneath
And gritty like a dust storm
When one is near
Whose body I would have
To mine
And cannot
Or would not
Or he would not,
And the reasons
I want to fuck my brains out
When I get angry.

Untitled

(September 15, 1986)

In my mind wars break out
About the smallest things.

A van backs up
Into a parked car
And makes
A dent
Or
Someone hands back the wrong change
Because they didn’t think.

It makes the air
Explode in madness
And clouds of bitter fire
Machine gun bullets
Rifle shot, and
Bombs.

It is men
Shooting other men,
To kill them
Over accidents.

I have seen each of these faux pas
Take place
And failed to stop the rage.