December, After Work
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Transcript of December, After Work
Poetry
Billie JOHN WIENERS
He was like a god, stepped out of a dream along the boardwalk.
He looked at my girl, a dream herself & that was the end of them.
They disappeared into the sea at Revere Beach. I ain’t seen them since.
December, After Work
on a dead day in midwinter light fades
as in a theatre no sun
and by the thin trees
unaccountably gives way
as white to grey to grey blue
goes down
the verge of land
‘Winter With A Vengeance’
Winter with a vengeance knocks at my bones, the lake hardly remembers the sky.
People are falling in the streets splintering like icicles.
If you find anyone answering this description let me know. I need them
to carry the weight of my life. The gods are gone. Their flesh is what lives on
in my heart like a tomb a wound, a bomb.
JOHN LOGAN
we are turned to our houses in a globe
snow powder- ing around us
in a paperweight
the field’s edge the last root
cold figures
and at
fire rages in the snow
SAUL TOUSTER
and snow-blindness on the white hills where the sledders, oozing from the nose,
inscribe their black curses on the forthcoming issue -
Mothers melt their children into soups.
After a hard day’s death, father snow-plows his way home with gifts of frostbite
of Spring.
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