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RICHARD WILSON MOSS

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 11/15/2015 |




CIVILIZATION

I can now lift up the world
And shake off its seas
Reveal all hidden land
Tremendous peaks and valleys
The wrecks of man
And so I would hope to remove
This swell of tears
And show at last
The heights and depths
The dry ruins of civilization.


FRESH DEATH

Separated from earth and sky
And the endless ecstasy of their copulations
I have gone on to the other end of me
Unprintable in the obits
Un-burnable in the furnace
Unburied forever.
Death as fresh as ripe juicy apples
Falling from limbs
Into dry mouths.

THE LATE BREAKFAST

Rolled huge carts of dirty dishes
Into the service elevator
In this womb they rattled
Upon descent
Scraps of toast and glasses
Of untouched orange juice
Were as helpless as I
Down we went
Into hot kitchens
At my station arriving
I wash them all
And then more carts are sent
After the late breakfast.
Later lighting up on a break
Smoke curls around my head
Like the shadow of a vine
In the alcove outside the hall
I study red, shriveled hands
As if they were never mine.


[COPYRIGHT 2005 RICHARD WILSON MOSS]

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