Sunday, March 20, 2011

tcherkask

by Jesse s mitchell

illustrated by rhoda penmarq


Tcherkask



Cold water is flat and through the back-marshes
And along the beach, it spreads out forever…
Flat, I walked across it and I wrote my name on it










I made it mine…
Literally.
Watching us move, their eyeballs stare











And look like gunshots…(what are they looking at?)
But its the sunshine and silence drops
On us like bombs











Deep down underground explosions
Like land mines
Bouncy betty…












Blowing dirt over our skin
With Goosebumps and stray hairs
(what are they looking at?)











I was wearing that black Ramones shirt
The one that is faded and stretched out
And never looked good on either of us.













I kick the sand back into the ocean.
(what are they looking at…with their cold flat eyes, I swear they are dead…I almost died one time, honestly and I came right back like Odin with secret powers…what all those people looking at?)











We Are just a couple of wild animals looking for a whirlwind place, a storm, a home, a view to something better.
Every peasant boy and girl from Lucknow to Tcherkask, Hammersmith to Kentucky knows that there are no half-measures in plunder,









Half a soul is nothing close to as good as all
But you will be punished just the same.














1 comment:

Old 333 said...

Enjoyed this before, and again; also, good illustrations! Eyes like gunshots. Really like that. Thanks, both of you.

Peter