I’ve Not Heard Brautigan Speak; I Aim to Keep it That Way

Pluses and minuses, sssnakes’
passive plaintiff, a fortress
of self, wrapped and warped,
clung to plastic windows

the last man to die that day,
a victim of human ignorance,
of society and its painted
posies, masticated by guns,

bravery left in magnanimity,
soldiers stacked, bloody,
each year another forgets,
until facts distort, none left

but I won’t draw the blinds,
left aglow, washed in winter’s
bleak love, I will watch and
wilt, under blank thoughts,

and passive sunshine, in a
great whim, pitchforks win
each fight, and the gravel in
my voice stings each vowel,

but I am still here, bereft and
soft, wishing for the pain
to take its leave, hike up the
hill and stick a tent below

the stars sat watching glossy
gears twist and spin inside
the mechanical box, patches
inside patches, painted lips

singing my praise, for each
night I wrap up tight, glimmer
and shimmer, votive neckties,
I will remember the bolo tie,

and Australia, and the Wild
West, swirling smoke, wispy
hair, sacrosanct austerity, hands
like mitts, and I will thank

each day for your heart, and
your smile, and your teeth,
and your ethereal spirit, and
your laugh, and your stern love


~ by Shawn M. Young on November 17, 2018.

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