O Bury Me Not

O Bury Me Not

Flat on my back in switchgrass, I sing ‘O Give Me a Home’ to the thousand-mile wind. Sometimes when I sing I even love my father. I feel how his braced leg fails him on any grassy slope. I see his withered right ankle, pale upon the good one, as he scoots along the floor to the bathroom—“out of my way!”—his privacy lost to loose BVDs and desperation. I sing of the sweet land where fathers died for liberty, and I love him.

I love my mother when I sing of that swan like a maid in a heavenly dream. I sing our Kansas anthem and in those few lines I float with her, calm and protected. I forget my ugly duckliness, and I love her.

Continue reading
Tags:
425 Hits
0 Comments

cement mixer me

cement mixer me

I do not sleep, night after night.

I stomp my snock-wall cranium, leave bloody bootprints and bone bruises.

Continue reading
Tags:
483 Hits
0 Comments

I will not survive the end of this poem

I will not survive the end of this poem
Stop writing as if you'll survive, be discovered, and understood.Don't pretend you have timeto not mean every word. Mean it. Every word. Or else make spreadsheets. Precious, clever lines won’t sound better later,or accrue in value, or change to gold from lead. Write like the dead. Syllable your last beat. You will not make it to the end of the page.You're already gone. What do you say, for your self?
439 Hits
0 Comments

clitta-clat king of the bucket

clitta-clat king of the bucket
I smell crawdad in mud-glow, fish-tang from a hidey-hole; zinc-y water-rot aroma, stink of joy to a barefoot boy, slipfinger boy in wet dungarees. Grab a blue shell, wave a snip-claw, mechanical claw, bend-back claw, to trim a trophy off curly thumb— but giddy drop and he becomes the clitta-clat king of the bucket.
Tags:
505 Hits
0 Comments

psilocybin syllable

psilocybin syllable
goodbye to weight within; i am the helium beast, i rise, ugly as sin, clean as nimbus, to the mothering sky. i saw every color. i felt you tremble. how true my heart was, long ago, how reliable my tongue, before i knew bitter. all done, o best beloveds! my gifts, the psyilocybin syllable, and the blooded, holy words of sorrow, are delivered. the boy prospered, bless the skin of his teeth, and the propaganda of love, and the slow fuse of truth. light wants in, after all. I am so sorry. i stayed as long as i could. as long as it took. i rise, ugly as sin, clean as nimbus, to the mothering sky.
Tags:
491 Hits
0 Comments

goat costume

goat costume
tear me out    ruckety-luck send the children away    sleep, sleepgive up on me    slice, slice I'm bad, I'm wrong    always, alwaysnothing holds me     gone, gone I’m a flame, in glass    fraud, fraudthere is a truth    liar, liar I gave up long ago:    damn, damn I wanted more    slickety-trickthe bad, the wrong     fade and fade hope will die    die and dieand horror, grief    always, alwaysbe good as your word    and give, givebe better than me    do more, morethe fail, and lie    and lie and liewill not undo me    not me, meI stayed my hand    I stayed, stayedsoft as a peach    I hold, holdI count for something    six, fiveI measure up    four, threenot infinitesimal    two, one
442 Hits
0 Comments

feel everything

feel everything

can’t sleep. i wear a horseshoe crab hat. brain is stubble field. hand gropes upward in a dark not dark enough.

because

Continue reading
508 Hits
0 Comments

i rise

i rise

Nana, in the kitchen, her glasses loose on their string, pours Uncle Sam cereal into her measuring cup; shakes, puts a little more. I close my eyes; I hear:

My finger-scratch on chalky page.

Continue reading
Tags:
421 Hits
0 Comments
fine art prints
writing by Greg Correll