lacy schutz : poetry

			There Are Many Mansions

			Which multiplies
			outside the dead
			earth Neither
			shamed nor
			sated Be decent
			There’s as much
	< back to poetry titles		chance we won’t
	< back to image		make it
	< back to giornata.net		home as we
			will The room
			darkens Between
			gasoline and the
			descent Loose and un
			dressed I’m not
			really a scoundrel I
			only feel that
			way some days And
			everything must
			be renamed
			rediscovered Be
			still Reassembled
			into other forms It all
			descends to the
			hope of rain And
			in those lost hours
			between four
			o'clock and six
			thirty Naked on an
			old quilt On the
			scraps of
			frocks dead
			women wore We crumble
			the wind with
			our faces The highway
			silver in the falling
			sun The house crumbles
			We’re propelled along
			the highway The mixture
			of meaning and
			the demand Between the
			hope of rain and
			the promise of no more
			floods The shade
			falls Those forms
			already shattering dis
			integrate Which
			move the matte roots with
			the feather spring
			rain The dove on the crux
			of the building next
			door Between
			the demand and the
			cramp Go
			go for god’s sake
			go


			< previous \| next >

			© Lacy Schutz, 2004