from Fiend Folio

 

by Chris McCreary

 

 

 

Screaming Trees
 

 

I.

 

We suppose

the roses & suppose the stone,

 

the stammer,

the stare, the I swear I bleed

 

these dead words in need of tether.

I cut construction paper stars

 

then sketch an ape,

clearly limping,

 

his mouthful of feathers

all dusted in blood.

 

 

II.

 

Venture forth from the porch

& risk deflower &

 

a fever of teeth all about

the neck.  I am all ink

 

until my elbows itch.  You favor

porcelain kitties & quicktime

 

hipsters.   You’re a long time gone.

You were never really there.

 

 

 

 

 

Ultraviolence

 

Tiny Vikings break Jane Austen.

 

They play grab-

ass in class, crash their dad’s Stratus

 

on the weekends.  They

come together

 

in clusters to imagine our overthrow,

gossip about our bad

 

breath.   They creep into our beds

as we sleep, gut us

 

w/ hunting knives, curl up to nap

wrapped in bloodied sheets. 

 

 

 

 

 

copyright © 2008 Chris McCreary

 

Chris McCreary is co-editor of ixnay press and the author of the books Dismembers and The Effacements.  He lives in Philadelphia.