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Biography

In the misery-chasm of the mind, a snowmist blossom
              is a charity-blessing.
I see my future; obese church-beggar,
knotted hair fallen into blind courtyards.


Tampons, dressings bathe bloody scalpels,
a dog suckles two white lambs;
a shrill reality in the dream, a nameless
open wound is their existence.


Far fire. Troops of ghosts are forever
flowing slowly like a convoy of vans
carrying meat in the wee hours.
The dew in my palm mirrors a face.


My aunt, porcelain-pale, lies lightly
on the iron bed in the alms-hospital, eskimo
soapstone-sculpture, translucid from bed-sores;
I pick up your pea-memories dropped along the path,


I learn your tattooed camp-number. The carrion-
              consuming wind howls ---
My dead dog's mouth is shut. Human and beast,
they are relatives in the agony. Barb-wired pines;
terrible spring makes the sky tremble.


On unbreakable roofs, the snow is a feast.

Published inpoem