Carl Wycoff CC
49. At 3 AM I think of going to the dark water, digging holes, placing a stone in each.
50. When the sprouts yellow I throw fertilizer on their thin feet and pull out the dead.
51. On my 54th birthday I pray; I thank God I can still love through the fire.
52. The nozzle is broken and poems spit out and ruin my monologue.
53. My dress is wet with blood; the leeches work from the inside.
54. I was certain I would remember the dream because I was wired to it with song.
55. Wings and webs wrap in the corners of the old fear.
56. Sometimes I choose not to have wounds.
57. Backwards, the anxiety slinks into the words.
58. I remember how free I was before I was born; I want to sell all of my costumes.
59. I expect more from humans, but they always go back into to a gray sitcom.
60. Turn off the teleprompter; there are lights greeting the living and the dead.
61. I have swallowed what I can; I have swallowed what I can.
Scott Ferry is a RN in the Seattle area. His most recent books of poetry are collaborations: Midnight Glossolalia with Lillian Nećakov and Lauren Scharhag and Fill Me With Birds with Daniel McGinn, both from Meat For Tea Press. His third book from Impspired Press is titled each imaginary arrow with be the first two being Skinless in the Cereal Aisle and The Long Blade of Days Ahead. He continues to write feverishly as the voices in his head demand. He tries to be a decent husband and father and general human whilst screaming into the mirrored lake of oblivion at intervals. More of his work can be found @ ferrypoetry.com.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.