falling from the sky

 



the eyes of condors
dart about feverishly
as men and vermin
pray. the sun lays
red across the face
of morning

and there is coffee,
smokes and mute
conversation for
the newly dead,
but no laughter
is allowed

ice on words
skate past
knowledge
and into blind
dog rage
and cruelty

my heart has
never held a
rose so close
that i have
understood it's
meaning, but
i understand
the cigar in my
mouth and tears

and the words of
great philosopher's
are iodine and salt
on our open wounds

the luckiest day of
our life cannot equal
the miseries held
in the paws of
a mouse