Billy Clem: Winter
I’m eating at the local Shell, again, a hot dog, wrinkled as an old hitchhiker’s thumb, with a bag of chips and a lottery ticket I can’t devour but would … Continue reading
Billy Clem: Autumn
Attending late flowers, I inhale low pressure. Four o’clocks trumpet their final purples and sumacs give a sudden red beat before they cut and bleed. Tall and brazen pink, surprise … Continue reading
Billy Clem: Spring in White
And the block’s crazy lady,
boarded up all winter with her bright, uncaged birds
singing, cawing, screaming like a Pride Parade
Billy Clem: About 40
This junk I’ve carried forty years On good days pees a single stream, But mostly just sticks to my thighs White as unseen fishes’ bellies. It’s all here for little … Continue reading
Billy Clem: Dear Lady Justice
Dear Lady Justice, You are here without a summons. Voices insist you be taken upstairs to crowds waiting to watch you, hear you proclaim their imperative. Refuse, … Continue reading
Billy Clem: Winter’s Manly Art
Those times in the clearing, a startling bald spot, like the one on his head, the crown men grow to hate, I tried to speak to him. Useless for work, … Continue reading
Billy Clem: As My Death Approaches
I am gravely ill. Medical tests indicate that my blood and many of my internal organs now fail to perform necessary functions. My body, enervated, starving, looks and feels terrible. … Continue reading
Vox Populi 