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The
Killing Machine
The
Our Father
Daddy
Long-Legs
Moves ToThe City
Desperation
Show
the
burning jar
nosferatu
american
gothic
the
presents of loss
ourselves
forsaken
our
killing machine
salamander
pond
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salamander pond
when i was little
we used to go
swimming in this pond down around
Harrisburg, V.A. whenever it got
hot so hot feet burnt blistered
and skin stuck to the air like flies
in pancake batter and we used to find
shriveled salamanders there mirrored
walking slow and disproportionate under
shallow wrinkled waves like blue Jell-O
--they were big fat green brown and
wide-eyed monsters as little boys and
girls who would hold their salamanders
in trembling little hands and name their
dying pets on the long ride home
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