Thursday, October 1, 2009

Walter Durk

44 Cent World

I don't live in that
44 cent world of shrines to people
I've never known
I don't flop in
a crack houseor flop house
and I don't take
space on spacebook
or mybook or what-
the-hell book
I definitely don't
go for degrees
except hot days
with haze and a
margarita in my
glass sure I'm
a lazy ass watching scenarios
cross my screen
as children scream
and I sit drinking
what a lucky

A New Word

A boy sat on
a concrete
ants far from safe catacombs
exposed their tiny bodies
followed an invisible line
no deviations

Magnifier in hand on a
warm summer day
I gave meaning to a
new word
learned the harsh
reality of power.


I need to enter you
climb inside
descend ladder rungs
to your core
walk green mountains
fogged valleys and
further still
into dark seas

Clutch your heart
feel it pulsate-
or shall I examine
the inner workings of
a clock?


A broad river courses
through the land of Neewton,
its waters flowing into a delta
and an open bay.

Chocolate waters wash
the trunks and roots of giant oaks
and fragile seedlings along its way.

This river, in a land unseen
washes through eternity,
collecting specimens of what had been
to reincarnate them once again.
Sierra Blanca
No breeze blows in Sierra Blanca
the air is calm as though there is no life
parched soil stretches between brown buildings
(the few that stand there)
as monuments to another time

Dust storms rage around

Sierra Blanca

clouding visions of distant Mesas
flat mountains reaching toward the sky
absorbing an eternal message
to transmit through the globe

Lizards thrive in Sierra Blanca
sucking-up with flicking tongues
remainders of life

Carcasses litter Sierra Blanca
brittle-white bones
with scores of spent munitions

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