eNuminous is 36.

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"FromUnderTheEyelids

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Portfolio:

postpoems.com/members/enuminous.

Poem:

Amy Goes To The Ballet

She's down the street she'll spiral in homing pigeon girl
For the methmonster just rolled in her driveway
Blue Trans-Am cost three pounds Humboldt's finest
Takes all he gives his kiss his needle his flights

Takes him to ward off the morning eyes closed
Down the street eyes closed against a harmfull sun
She begs or sells herself away to the train tracks
Pass a bottle between old-timers stumble river

And wet rags and hands pushing open hazy parting
Sunlit and unconscious and moaning until night
And the purr of cars loving to be alone
The street and her fight for control blindly following

Candlyland of fists guns beer blackness with silent
Film rage of a hundred of her mothers before
All cast off into fear and shame
Fertile souls quenched by strange times and nightfall

Living with dying people travel and counters for medicine
Forgetting to remember who don't come 'round no more
Finding solace under dust trees bottle roll in the street
The sirens are all left for worthy crime again

Sun sets shuffle down and off to sleep all
Ballet for ragged men in the dawn cross over the berm
Mota and tar heroin begged off the suits
Busted heads wail through sparkling clean alleys

Keep away from our filth padlocks chime
To fourteen year old wise men with new mouths
To feed tired to the bone crying
Ballet for ragged men fear and lovemaking at once

The stares and frustration in the wake spiral in
Homing pigeon girl in all her decrepit glory smiles
Just this once six year old Amy going to the dentist
Hands her begonias and lilies tightly clenched
Innocent special smiling



(c) 2002 Matthew Chenoweth Wright

The content of this page, the portfolio of poems, and all other writings of "enuminous" aka Matthew Chenoweth Wright are all protected by copyright and may not be transmitted or reproduced in any fashion whatsoever without permission by the author, unless you really have to share, in which case it's ok, as long as you don't make any money off of it, and if you do, you better give me a good slice of it, a veritable piece of the action, as 'twere.

Thanks!!!

Matthew Wright

Poetry, sometimes rollicking in the shrubbery or halfdrowning in the river, with glee! Stalking cute intelligent girls with anti-malice in my heart. Listening, deeply, to the worlk.

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