I snap the blade into the scalpel’s handle . . . Metal tongue, the violator’s shaft, is familiar to my hand . . . . . . . . . the long nails of a vamp should suit me better The brusque soldier, . . . . . . just hours ago all hands and
Landed for real this time and not just another tale by Old Man Haggardy of Martians crushing his mailbox or souring his cow’s milk. No, the aliens were here, and here to stay, applying for Social Security and buying double-wides down by the quarry. Sure, they started off strange looking, built on radial lines, not
Hands whose folds and creases _______spoke not of rail splits or nails A mouth whose cough sputtered _______angels into the dust of a long road I saw women dry his gentle _______feet with their hair I saw men covet _______and beg to know him ______________the salt cries of Gomorrah _____________________fell from their trembling members My
Found in the last stall eyes swollen . . . . . . . gray, fat, glinting bloodshot considerate gaping wrists dangling in the bowl kneeling, poised, limp pallor . .What right? . . . . . What right? . . . . . . . rats with wings . . . . . .
There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. xxxxxxxThe first time you overdosed xxxxxxxxxxxxxxit was a dead bluejay by the side of the road, xxxxxxxtwisted but unblemished, and I knew your taut lines had broken. Next it was a hawk lost in this big city, xxxxxxxflying across my windshield, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxa still-writhing snake in
