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Swamp Water

from by even the slept

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Walk that line where the damn begin to rise
Meet your maker there mother, brother
Cut your faith in a clearing by the vines
Let your wounded hands bleed the river red

At the misty station
You take cover
Where the water turns to wine
You take cover

Pale, gray light leads to shifty confines
The tides churn below and suck you under
Sweet divine is a life you’ll never find
The afterlife is a dying fairy tale
Sever your heart and sink it with a stone
In the murk and muck burn your bridges bare

He was a man familiar and muddy
Yet he was unnatural said the spirit with no face,
A dying fairy tale.


from Paper Vultures, released July 24, 2012



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even the slept Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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