Larry Sawyer



Me  Tronome

I'd like to make a home in your beautiful neck
  your violin neck plays beautiful concertos
I strain my ears as high as the treetops

so that I may hear them
  there is a staircase in my heart
the black insect of midnight is calling us
  we will crush
empires of midnights beneath our poor boots
  our boots shaped like tired waves
upright sleepwalking dreams
  charming excuses marching like regiments
at war with our best intentions
  amateur day rises majestically
limpid and green
  spring pigeons speak
forgotten languages and illustrate
  frozen memories from a lost
cousin's blonde nightmare.

Then of a Sudden

my phallus even the whispering itself is muted by the noise of long
horrible shrieks I feel feeble
countenances inside her smashing to bits a deafening child through the
crowd and then of a sudden
the city I walk down to the moment stood before true sand I make my way
unknown pulling enraged
flags crying streams of loudspeakers on newspaper shores

As if Innocent

then the accountant stood before them simple mass its claws reaching
destroying everything music of
its own enraged placements flaccid and immense in the stereo dark she
senses the nothingness but
goes on counting sounds never heard and the riot creaking and
popping however the epidemic breathes
deeply having poured its heart into this final defense

I Like To

lie down in the lap of the city bars creaking and muted by the noise of
the rooftops march along iron ears as it
reaches the parapets glowing of stars limping to the beat of invisible
drums that was my heart shaking its fur
against the bars of supposed freedom