Pony Payroll Bones Talkin Slow Frays Upon A Maryland Dusk--
Matthew PonY Bones Proctor
Four Poems from a poem collection Concerning Maryland--City and Country--the memory of the echo of Country Music.
Waiting For Rain In Baltimore
Shoes covered in dust.
Smack them leather shoes within that
blazing evenin sun
Leaver shoes covered in dust
By tha Way: HerE's ah ALLEGORY : It took 3000 years
for Porter Wagoner
to laugh out
Loud
on the air
on the
radio
when you're--
Nervous,--tell tha truth
bottom dollar
skin tha knuckles
across summer pavement
2nd to bottom dollar
ever swallow a tooth?
the bird is the bird silhouette in the evening
when the hammer is
laid down and a
neighborhood dog
growls ferocious
A man or a woman
opens a beer--
a dog
choking on barks
someone wants ta slice that throat
feel the warm liquid
i visited the house of
the old and proceeded to
clean
their funeral dust
to keep them alive
to keep the old alive
i dusted the ancient photographs--
the body within--is contorted
mindless , the mind attempts
to dream yet the material reality and its web of
concrete relations
brings one dull
shattering china plate smashing gainst face
and yer eye gets gouged by jagged broke crystal goblet
This our predicament.
Nothing heroic in the day to day
21st century
hustle to make money
i raise my fist
to a black helicopter
saw buzzin the sky
the machine authority circles again
I take trash to the alley way
yellow orange peach cream
electro street lights
go on
birds are wild when welded to the evening ebbing away
dead birds keep turning up around the outside parameter of the ole mansion
birds gettin into poison droppin dead
Rural poem For JennY TuckeR
Tha full moon horse shambles Eastern Shore loneliness
Moonraindawndreamhonelysuckledew. names----
Cloudy rivers sing only answers ---
Let me tell you magic
Let me tell you tha time
found all them deer bone
Nassawango River
black tidal currents
some say tha river
got no bottom to it.
GO Tell It On the MounTaiN
drove the big white dented Ford
truck
up the mountain road at 3 A.M.
to the mile high campground that say
closed for the season
watched clouds form
into staggering variances
of formlessness
stark spirits
and things were in tha woods
watchin
then, waxing moon all blotted out
swallowed, thundering heaviness
ribcage xylophones
Rain is the blood of ghosts
He was good at making a woman
cry
Sun was coming up and he was
going down--
he was just another stone
sliding down tha entangled ravine
Orleans, Maryland
Heavy rains sultry sutures--- upon-- whilst
Indian summer rusts and needs a shuckin
and the skull can be a tin roof and her hair a bunch O
briars---
Outside--the nautical maneuvers of clouds---
When the night clears and the stars shine a sheathing sparkle
I know there is no outer space. Only
the grotesque collisions of inner space.
and then I'm watching a ghost taking a piss in Lenape creek.
The crickets loud turn my blood into powder
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