WEBVTT

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I'm going to read the
new forms, pretty much

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poems, so since his last book.

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The first is called
"Cemetery Nights."

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Sweet dreams, sweet memories,
sweet taste of Earth,

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here's how the dead pretend
they're still alive.

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One drags up a chair, a
lamp, and wraps the newspaper

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from somebody's
garbage, and sits

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holding the paper up to his face
no matter if the lamp is busted

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and his eyes have fallen out.

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Or some of the others
grouped together

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in front of the TV,
chuckling and slapping what's

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left of their knees no
matter if the screen is dark.

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Four or more sit at a table
with glasses and plates,

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lift forks to their
mouths and chew no matter

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if their plates are empty
and they chew only air.

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Two of the dead
roll on the ground,

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banging and rubbing
their bodies together as

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if in love or frenzy no matter
if their skin breaks off.

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But the generals
are just a memory.

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The head cemetery rat
calls in all the city rats,

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who pay him what
rats find valuable,

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the wing of a pigeon
or ear of a dog.

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The rats perch on tombstones
and the cheap statues of angels.

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And, oh, they hold their
bellies and laugh, laugh

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until their guts half break.

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While the stars give
off the same cold light

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that all these dead ones
plan their lives by.

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And in someone's
yard, a dog barks

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and barks just to see
if some animal is dumb

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as he is will wake from
sleep and perhaps bark back.

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