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Thomas Williams (email)

 

Crux Ansata

Dawn exposes herself here

Gives herself with tax

In the East, then, the West

 

Mist steams off grass blades

Animals’ calls slide through

the orange sheets of light,

where exact shadows ink

smiling abstractions upon the soil

 

New cruxes begin in beds

Or streets or floors and futons

The same old stresses loved to be hated

Missed when they are gone,

Loathed when they appear

 

Night, are you better for peace

At least, if we can sleep then

  

 

Invisible Sandwich

Notice money is not handed

to you in exchange for food

because we don’t kill anymore

 

We speak     and the feat is

a phenomenon, but curses

spread and bones are spread too

over invisible sandwiches

promised to the starving

 

Skinnier than dead trees, but

organs pump inside while

a different, fat heart palpitates

from caffeine intake watching

the flies tap dance on chapped skin

 

The standing, cosmic malnourished

frame falls and passes back into

a watershed dream we can never see

 

A place where sandwiches are for free

 

 

Shady Bones

Peel my face off

Watch the rain drop backwards

and rub cigarettes out on my skull

Twisting to

a table

Where I sit within

a drunken nebula

Suns are memories and

gods are regrets

 

Fellow skeleton-men, smoking

and playing ‘Texas Hold ‘Em’

Betting heart attacks

and disloyal wives

as naughty daughters hump

boyfriends raw

Calling dealers

handing a method

to eat holes in the brain

and suck scum off sex

she’s never smelled

 

Previously

 

“Officer down!’

Caressed the potency

of the ill-slaked crystal

Flesh is no more

and breath is

vacuumed out like

grime from lazy-faced carpet

 

Dirty love

to fix yourself

 

Yes, dearest, worlds are shattered

to repair you.