I count the bones
rained from above
which sound like wood
dropped on stone
when they fall.
–
If I could,
I think I’d love
the long bones
most of all,
and the skulls.
Posts Tagged ‘Mister Gnarly’
Ghoul Flesh or Mr. Gnarly Rides Again
Posted: December 26, 1991 in PoetryTags: Bones, Mister Gnarly, Skull, Stone, Wood
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I am Mister Gnarly in my corridors of bones,
chewing gristle from burrowed skulls,
populating my empty rooms
with ivory treasures;
fragile sculptures of vertebrae;
bones licked clean of graveyard dust;
balanced and braced
in my honeycombed ways.
filthy I throne upon a cowhead,
rotting with my dessicated flesh,
searching for people that I knew,
to hold their skulls in my paws
and telling their bleached eyes
that I am Mister Gnarly to you.
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