{espial}
from
[earth is part earth and there’s a hole in the sound I made you from]
poems
Barton Smock
Dec 2015
~
[traumas]
dear apple
in a paper
sack
there is
no
tornado
[notes on dimension]
anyone with sight was put here to warn my son. the past is the past of no sudden moves. the future is the language god uses to hallucinate. if I remember correctly, memory is the safe word my father avoids to make his presence known. touch is the cage in all things mom.
[On my father being gay]
a crow
born inside
a footstep
is passing
for dark
[malaise]
how far we are
from soup
when mother
burns her tongue
trying
to convince
god
they had
the mime and the mute
the same
childhood.
we love her so much
we use our brains
as often
as baby
spoons.
first base is a landmine.
there’s nothing to say
we weren’t
here.
~
~
~ other writing: kingsoftrain.wordpress.com
~ other titles: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
~ contact: bartonsmock@yahoo.com
kingsoftrain 
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