tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54930919113329123632024-02-20T22:16:01.366-05:00Duane Honeydew Loves YouHe doesn't really love you. Not yet, at least. But if you read his poems he'll love you forever. And he'll bake you cakes. Oh so many cakes.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-19124436275546263312007-05-08T09:53:00.000-05:002007-05-08T10:10:21.274-05:00Methinks Myself a Crudly One<strong>L</strong>ucky me, oh yes sir-ee, I'll have some FUN tonight!<br /><strong>O</strong>ld boys and young men alike are lookin' for a fight<br /><strong>A</strong>nd the moon is redder than red red spaghett-er<br /><strong>T</strong>otally covered with a cardinal colored sauce.<br /><strong>H</strong>ow the jaded lady will quiver when I try to get 'er<br /><strong>E</strong>longated on a wet bed of some mushy midnight moss.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-4262474203691150372007-05-08T06:30:00.000-05:002007-05-08T07:05:14.339-05:00Thoughts by a Flower Bed in Turkey<strong>D</strong>on't lose sleep over the miles between you and happiness;<br /><strong>I</strong>t won't be long before the oceans dry, the world shrinks, and<br /><strong>S</strong>he will be close enough to fill the room with light.<br /><strong>T</strong>onight you will dream that you will smile tomorrow<br /><strong>A</strong>nd maybe you will wake with her light on your face.<br /><strong>N</strong>otice how the minutes are faster when you think of her?<br /><strong>C</strong>elebrate what you have, do not let your tears touch the<br /><strong>E</strong>arth; all that will grow there is a deeper sadness, a dead flower.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-62212157456311027902007-05-03T07:37:00.000-05:002007-05-03T07:53:53.914-05:00Battered Traveller in a Train Depot in Utah<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>C</strong>old cuts on old rye bread tucked in a napsack.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>H</strong>e plays the panflute, the oboe, claves and harmonica.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>rrived in Provo with a new scar carved across his lips.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>ed stains on his torn jeans. <em>A misunderstanding</em>, he says.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>ll his burps smell like anchovies and diesel gasoline.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>C</strong>an't remember a warm bed or a kiss goodnight.</span><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>his is the only way to live, guarantees personality.</span></em><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>leven months with a limp, the bullet still in his foot.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>ents a boat with his last crumpled dollars. Drifts.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-16597878871347498032007-05-02T08:19:00.000-05:002007-05-02T08:43:23.016-05:00Pink Lemonade and the World News Section<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>V</strong>iolence carries the volunteers in on burning wings.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>I </strong>heard it won't be long before we're sent back home.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>C</strong>old bodies covered in warm sweat, home to new holes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>he body count scampers by on the streaming news bulletin.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>O</strong>h say can you see though the thick bus bomb smoke?</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>etired orthodontists in Florida shake their balding heads,</span><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>Y</strong>ou know I had a patient whose brother's son died there.</span></em>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-90338223020193929472007-05-01T07:31:00.000-05:002007-05-01T07:45:41.811-05:00Hungry Hordes of Silly Words, Raise Thy Broadswords!<strong>T</strong>hose fallen words we have cast aside, away, swept<br /><strong>U</strong>nder the proverbial rug with dust and mouse shit,<br /><strong>R</strong>eturn to our lips in all of your ugly scabbed glory.<br /><strong>D</strong>ork farts, mung, and grundel burps, welcome back.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-56287946992391570032007-04-30T07:17:00.000-05:002007-04-30T08:18:29.965-05:00Foggy Night Before a Sixtieth Birthday<strong>N</strong>ights are the hardest to survive alone.<br /><strong>O</strong>ut in the moonlight she dances, beyond the fog,<br /><strong>S</strong>miling with another man ripe in her memory's garden.<br /><strong>T</strong>he wind rattles my window, a draft blows out my candle.<br /><strong>A</strong>s the small hours wither into daylight she will haunt me;<br /><strong>L</strong>aughter and faded kisses in dusty gazebos at dusk,<br /><strong>G</strong>in and candied apples on creaky piers before a storm.<br /><strong>I</strong>n my cold bed my sober mind growls, my old limbs<br /><strong>A</strong>che. I am too full of hate to forget those I loved.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-59919429064847880922007-04-29T08:55:00.000-05:002007-04-29T09:06:25.650-05:00Can Lonely Words Revive the Dead?<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>he dark wings of happiness flappeth like a wounded bat.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>nd these days with a cracked church bell whimpering.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>ain has drowned every parade that limped along this street.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>emind me of the one time that I smiled without fear.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>O</strong>n quiet days you can hear the gun shots like angry whispers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>eturn to the glory days? Good one. Write a poem about it asshole.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-962247245741186192007-04-28T10:02:00.000-05:002007-05-02T08:44:52.266-05:00Execution in a Rose Garden at Dawn<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >M</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">asked intruders sliced the King's family into confetti.</span><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >A</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">rch Bishops found with severed genitals in their mouths.</span><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Y</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">es. The answer to any incriminating question is yes.</span><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >H</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">otel bed sheets stained with red and set ablaze.</span><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >E</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">mergency sirens stab the tepid air to death.</span><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;" >M</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">elt the candle sticks into swords. Hand them out at church.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-76898420384397290152007-04-28T09:51:00.000-05:002007-04-28T10:02:13.423-05:00War Banners of the Finest Heathen Flesh<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">C</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">arrion carried on black laquered wagons.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">R</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">eturn to your villages as blood-soaked heroes.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">U</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ntie the heathens when they've stopped breathing.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">S</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ell their rotten teeth for goat meat in the market.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">A</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">nts eat corpse skin until they all look like brothers.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">D</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ungeon rats gnaw on the ankles of the sleepless.</span><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">E</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ternal life is worth your ugly death, soldier.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-88376877005073763322007-04-26T08:32:00.000-05:002007-04-26T08:42:18.794-05:00Opera Cellist Pondering His Smallness<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>race the chalk outline in the orchestra pit with your lips.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>uthless weaponry, these false confessions of love.<br /><strong>A</strong>nother lifetime dedicated to misanthropy awaits me.<br /><strong>G</strong>o to the room where Juliette rests her dead limbs.<br /><strong>E</strong>ntire villages liquidated in a jealous heartbeat.<br /><strong>D</strong>ust has settled on the battlefield. The bones gleam.<br /><strong>Y</strong>esterday's wounds will never scab over.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-50721840578004822422007-04-25T08:30:00.000-05:002007-04-26T11:48:45.876-05:00Rusty Badges and Sand-Clogged Throats<strong>C</strong>arnivores snuggle with the sleeping sheep.<br /><strong>A</strong>n abyss whistles between mountain ranges.<br /><strong>C</strong>ertain tall tales seem less tall out here.<br /><strong>T</strong>rain conductors found mummified in the sand.<br /><strong>U</strong>nder a quiet sky streaked with blood and gold<br /><strong>S</strong>o many animals dig for water in the desert.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-35417158146365250442007-04-24T06:56:00.000-05:002007-04-24T07:32:38.054-05:00Whisker'd Rogue Hunters Kill On High<strong>F</strong>urred assassins navigate the dark corn fields,<br /><strong>E</strong>ars flat against their skulls. Silent claws.<br /><strong>L</strong>iquidator of eon-old enemies under sickle moons.<br /><strong>I</strong>n the grip of slumber their tails whip violently.<br /><em><strong>N</strong>os laus diabolus cattus</em>, the hooded ones chant.<br /><strong>E</strong>ntitled to the ancient crown; kill and sleep.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-38742212926870201792007-04-23T07:12:00.000-05:002007-04-23T07:57:16.566-05:00The Man With the Piano Wire Mustache<strong>V</strong>intage string instruments played a mournful dirge.<br /><strong>A</strong>nother shit hole town full of dusty applause.<br /><strong>U</strong>nder the newest laws the punishment for smiling is<br /><strong>D</strong>eath. This also goes for smirking or any mouth twitch.<br /><strong>E</strong>ntertainment went from baroque music to these<br /><strong>V</strong>ile acts of genital acrobatics and flatulence.<br /><strong>I</strong>n the cobblestone street a mustached man groans.<br /><strong>L</strong>ithe pickpockets swarm the injured and inebriated.<br /><strong>L</strong>ong nailed ragtime junkies polish their trombones.<br /><strong>E</strong>yes smile slyly in the stomach of the darkness.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-36243320464679695522007-04-22T07:30:00.000-05:002007-04-22T08:03:32.861-05:00The Heiroglyphics of a Morning Homicide<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>pproval has rarely been achieved through dismemberment.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>uminate on less lofty topics, you'll live longer, Doctor.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>C</strong>onnotations creep through my thoughts like tarantulas.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>H</strong>e saved us from sin with exquisite panache.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>xplain again how gods and parasites are in my blood.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>estify to your darkest desires while we salivate.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>Y</strong>our fragments have gathered like bread crumbs under</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>P</strong>orch swings. Beneath the porch, opened graves.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>arly chilling therapy sessions are now available on DVD.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-29907479056066907182007-04-21T08:00:00.000-05:002007-04-21T08:20:18.656-05:00Sharpened Cleats and Cloven Hooves<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">G</span>ore slicked grey hair under a baseball cap.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>very time he's called a heartless bastard<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">O</span>r an evil sonuvabitch he grins with glowing eyes.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R</span>emember the game when he grounded to second,<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">G</span>rew god damn wings of fire, and beat it out?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span>t rained scorpions after he addressed the crowd<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>nd greeted them with a mouthful of fangs.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P</span>erhaps time has altered the actual details.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>mber-red eyes in the shadow of his cap brim,<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span> corpse left at every base as he rounded them.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">C</span>ould a demon be immortalized at Cooperstown?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>e sure wouldn't argue if I said yes.<br /></span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-80600872590887933392007-04-20T07:36:00.000-05:002007-04-20T07:48:01.952-05:00The Quiet Murder of Carpathian Hunger Pangs<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span>n the black folds of nightshade he descends.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M</span>admen chase the tail of sanity in the wilderness.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P</span>ig heads mounted on pikes glare at those who pass.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>mens wilt as shadows blow out the candles.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">L</span>unar desires drum the beasts into frenzy.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>nemies of the tyrant hide wide-eyed in haystacks.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R</span>ed letters written in farmer's blood: With love, Vladimir.<br /></span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-8482120981366578382007-04-19T09:53:00.000-05:002007-04-19T10:13:42.796-05:00Pecking at Dried Vomit on Thirty Third Street<strong>P</strong>atience is what kills the most miserable people.<br /><strong>I</strong>magine a world where roadkill can speak.<br /><strong>G</strong>o for a walk without looking over your shoulder.<br /><strong>E</strong>nter the green door leading to the black room.<br /><strong>O</strong>rdinary miracles go unnoticed in the disarray.<br /><strong>N</strong>ausea trembles in our stomachs like a butterfly.Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-88172013590874351712007-04-18T07:39:00.000-05:002007-04-18T07:48:12.223-05:00Spelunking in the Blasphemous Innerspace<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>C</strong>orn has infiltrated the fortress of my human waste.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>lien emotions explode in my chest like sun spots.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>B</strong>en was no more a rat than the man who sells me danishes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>B</strong>inge killing is known as extermination in some circles.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>pparently I pissed myself while writing the last line.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>G</strong>od damn, these corduroys are dry clean only.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>nough of the self-exploration. There are larger things.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-19694395340092597162007-04-17T08:28:00.000-05:002007-04-18T13:16:30.330-05:00Desert Phantoms Stalk Old Law Men<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>W</strong>ild hogs nibble on bodies in the newest ditch.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>Y</strong>ears have wheezed by since justice sang in this place.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>ll the nights are full of dying stars praying.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>he saloon burned down during Sunday mass.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>ired hands explore a revolver's familiar curves.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>E</strong>ven the dry riverbeds seem dryer these days.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>t first the blood seemed so bright. So exciting.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>R</strong>ed turned to black and now the dead moan.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>P</strong>rairie winds spread snarling grass fires.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-83180683117645925082007-04-16T08:45:00.000-05:002007-04-16T09:21:51.047-05:00The Thunder Screamed Decaying Songs<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>A</strong>nother barn collapsed while the little ones slept.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>R</strong>ain water flooded the muddy back roads.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>C</strong>hicken coops full of rotten eggs, black inside.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>A</strong>sk the chainsaw sharpener which way is South.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>D</strong>arkness sends the cattle howling towards the storm.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>I</strong>lluminated by lightning, the coyotes feast.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>A</strong>larms cry over the hills, beyond the inky river.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>N</strong>aked children play beneath a flaming weeping willow.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-55623551409056387592007-04-15T08:13:00.000-05:002007-04-15T08:22:23.374-05:00Breakfast Sausage Bleeds for the Mistress<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>J</strong>ackals tore the skin from the eyeless carcass.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>I</strong>n between breakfasts I am an absolute beast.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>M</strong>oonlight whispers, tells me to hurt again.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>M</strong>y Mistress Luna, I answer. Of course I will.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>Y</strong>ou are my favorite night soldier, she sings.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>D</strong>own in the slaughterhouse the animals scream,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>E</strong>ach morning ripe with spilled guts and grease.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>A</strong>fter the afterglow, face stuffed with bacon,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>N</strong>othing can stop midnight's voice in my ear.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-79495111708926244012007-04-14T09:33:00.000-05:002007-04-14T09:46:36.053-05:00Thor Watches With a Turkey Leg and Boner<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">V</span>enom laced lollipops sure made the evening interesting.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span>n all my years I've never seen a dying dog have its day.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">K</span>ings and baby thieves alike are buried in this place.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span>lluminate the black depths and terrorize the serpents.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N</span>octurnal genocide; not yet a televised sporting event.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">G</span>ood luck, boys. Those metal huts are harder to burn.<br /></span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-38474313489310533472007-04-13T08:48:00.000-05:002007-04-13T08:55:39.058-05:00Saturday Morning Cannibal Pep Talk<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>nough of the gut-eating funny business,<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Y</span>ou're going to boot camp, son.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>ven a godless sons-a-bitch like you can learn<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P</span>roper manners and how not to eat persons.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>nd if you slither back home some day<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">T</span>here better not be gut-juice on your breath.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">C</span>ontrol, that's the most important thing, son.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>e who controls those dark desires is the man.<br /></span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-79717499070482984292007-04-12T06:52:00.000-05:002007-04-12T07:00:21.498-05:00What the Spade Hit in the Garden of Malice<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>I</strong>n the garden you will find my secret,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>N</strong>estled between dying geraniums.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>F</strong>rost bite has claimed my third leg.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>E</strong>xpell the demons? On what charges?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>C</strong>ook me up better bologna than that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>T</strong>omorrow I will change my name,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>I</strong> think I like the sound of Victorino.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>O</strong>r maybe Hunting Wolf. Or Turd Burglar.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>N</strong>o, forget the name, no one will remember.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5493091911332912363.post-30882034969587082082007-04-11T07:47:00.000-05:002007-04-11T08:01:49.716-05:00The Burnt Sky Drips Ashes in Our Eyes<span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>T</strong>he phantom laughter dies like old soldiers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>E</strong>ach one of us has a spark of ugliness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>A</strong>fter the doctors pull a white sheet over the moon</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>M</strong>arch into town and burn that fucker down.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>W</strong>eak bones snap under my hungry stare.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>O</strong>ctober passes like ass gas from cadavers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>R</strong>unaway lovers run down by pickup trucks,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>K</strong>nives protruding, the asphalt wet.</span>Duane Honeydewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15842424961855976112noreply@blogger.com0