Y Plus Y

My friend, the screen, still glows,
And its dream will not end,
And life, my pulse is loud.

Fate, my cow path, is bare,
But the dance halls have closed,
And the stars are still far.

The sick wards all grow dark.
What do I want or you want,
Or she or he or they?

Some jokes, cursed days, a prize.
The tools pass back and forth.
We think a lot of food,

Just when our foe, our debts
Knock on doors, knock down walls,
Just when the ads pop up

To buy things. Things. As if
There were things, we knew things.
Red Queen says your friend’s gone.

Raised That Way

Go south at the snake church.
Wait, now, some days to work.
Hide all the words you stole.

The air hums, but it’s not
Tense. Just the beasts who speak.
The thrummed air has no words.

Check the news. Check the skies.
Check the list of old chores.
Rains end. A truck drives by.

What do you want from us?
We wait in lines for you.
We do want to please you.

We don’t know who you are.
Would you like some sliced life,
A bit of blood and bone,

A shrink-wrapped hunk of gore?
You want a piece of this,
Or some thoughts on the past?

We want to sulk and sigh.
There’s a thrummed beat out there
Where men pound at the ground

To raise new suites of homes.
We’ve been in that snake church.
We spoke in tongues, not poems.