Some good people, daring & subtle voices and their tense faces, as I think of it I see sank underground. I see. My radar digs. I do not dig. Cool their flushing blood, them eyes is shut— eyes? Appalled: by all the dead: Henry brooded. Without exception! All. ALL. The senior population waits. Come down! come down! A ghastly & flashing pause, clothed, life called; us do. In a madhouse heard I an ancient man tube-fed who had not said for fifteen years (they said) one canny word, senile forever, who a heart might pierce, mutter 'O come on down. O come on down.' Clear whom he meant.
Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 8 Sep 2008 5:01 AM | Viewed: 2054 times
A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.
For more information...