Tag: dean young

THE ILLUSION

Consider our mad loves:
J's for B that he only knew after
she ripped out the hook. Smell rain
and whose name do you say? G and R
seem okay but A's ripping the cover off
T's book, the cashier then asking if
he'd like a damage discount and who
doesn't deserve a damage discount?
The heart itself apparently
can be eaten, singed on a bed
of baby greens. Half step, half step,
clap, throw the hive upon the lap.
A silver head floats in the corn.
At least M has his daughter.
A silver head floats at the portal.
Like a dried gourd, the rattle K makes.
The dream bread falls through the dream
hands. Two seconds it took you to do
what you did to me. Here's a breast,
an eye. Here's a necessity.
Flinchclatter dovespun sundrove
heartsprung and sometimes the wreckage
assumes recognizable shapes.
Sure it does. Touch this. Maybe
your father was right to hate me.
I was running as fast as I could.
Maybe faster.
Forever and forever and forever.

© 2001 DEAN YOUNG