today is a poem from hell

[Terry Southern is the author of Easy Rider, Dr. Strangelove, Red Dirt Marijuana and much, much more]

the wind has come up
like Terry Southern
tossing bulls like styrofoam

the wind through my sleep
where i didn’t dare move
or loose my foot-long

the wind this morning
with (she) crying
(she) was the frost of the thing

wind in the naked branches
obelisk and minaret
like what ravens become

the wind,
we’re born to die

the wind in Westbank
through sleepings-bag
of homeless elite

the wind out at Body Dump
smashing the lighthouse:
wife-beater wind

the wind across the blood-soak
coral, hoar frost gardens
of City Hall

wind in the cisterns
the cisterns of knowledge
at/near the airport college

the wind of course
(my apology):
a sweater clerk

– Clay McCann


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