Friday, August 22, 2014

OF DUST AND THORNS



THE CHANGES OF NIGHT

We walked across the desert kicking up little clouds of dust with each step. Baby you remember how dry the lips got? How good the juice of a prickly pear tasted, you picked the thorns and I ripped it open and squeezed the moisture into your mouth, Lips still too cracked to share a kiss. We didn’t mind, the nights came and we found a way to keep warm, even if it took a couple times. Eventually life got easier, looking at the size of my belly now, I sometimes think I’d like to go back if for no other reason than to confirm the memories, then I remember how much work it took to earn this belly. Deserts are great but then so are three squares and your ass pressed against mine in the soft bed. I am willing to leave youth to the young.

© M Durfee
8.22.2014

Thursday, August 21, 2014

MOVING



ON THE (RAIL) ROAD AGAIN
On the railroad tie where I stood watching the rails stretch out to become one, I saw a light rise in the distance. I didn’t mind so much when my mistake pasted me to its horn blowing face, I finally had become a part of something that was actually going somewhere. The sun is still hot, sexy hot, but it really doesn’t move me anymore.

© M Durfee
8.21.2014

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

WHOSE SIDE IS GOD ON?



ALL WE KNOW IS WAR
Where the eagle flies past tall trees and cliff faces those below never know until the screeching shadow sounds a warning too fast go to ground or be fodder for the missiles talons. Death comes too easily to them of living families with so many species of new made dead flesh eaters flying amidst this ancient old world's creatures.

And when in the arms of angels, the many dead with gray faces, blood streaked by seraph tears as they rise to an unseen life bequeathing God to lay the young at the feet of that Holy Spirit, So that the holy being may too weep and cleanse them of their dying pains and lost dreams.

No living being is insulated from dying and we have wedged ourselves so far apart that neither curse, blessing nor any tears shed by man nor spirit will mend the rends we have allowed to come screeching out of the sky to divide us, kill, us will ever allow for peace again.

It is easier to blindly hate than see a way to amity and common regard, to understand who it is who is our true enemy, for as there are angels there a demons and as there are good and kind men on any side there are wicked with stolen might as well who will fight for a moment, in a swiftly passing histories spot light hell.

In every field from Flanders to unknown mass catacombs commanders for their own glory to save, have easily sent many a future hope to the grave. We are so wise and benevolent as we send our armament shrieking down upon a population with no place of salvation except in the arms of angels who weep over them as they rise to take the dead to lay at their father’s feet that he too may have the chance over his children to weep.

© M Durfee
8.20.2014