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hungry
ghost time
fire and
smoke are the rice of the dead
never let
them be underfed
wonder why
I'm here
back but not
when I was
where I was
when
my own hand
grows smaller, smaller
ghosts can't
read a thing
they hardly
know which way is up
in my former
life
I'm always a
ghost
there's no
real returning
I just drift
winter to summer
the river
here's brewed
generations
aimed their arses
weather is
ghost dark
won't see
through
but the real
ghosts are hungry, hungry
fires are lit
to say to show
here's a way
you ghosts
come hither
gorge
yourself, be choked
ghosts aren't
chickens
ghosts are
ducks
they'll swill
until
they're in
the grave – ha!
to be beyond
this world is bitter
a yellow
curse is medicine
next typhoon
takes us all away
a mirror
points the curse
you see how
how bitter
beyond the grave
it is to
simply be
This is terrific! Congrats. And how it unfolds. Particularly the mid-section:
ReplyDeleteweather is ghost dark
won't see through
but the real ghosts are hungry, hungry
fires are lit to say to show
here's a way you ghosts
come hither
gorge yourself, be choked
ghosts aren't chickens
ghosts are ducks
I'm feeling so sorry for ghosts. Really enjoyed
ReplyDelete