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Crayon On Concrete; Collected Poetry: 1987-1993
Stephen Huff's Collected Poetry: 1987
Chapter 1 Page 2
Crayon On Concrete; Collected Poetry: 1987-1993
Stephen Huff's Collected Poetry: 1987
Chapter 1 Page 2
Stephen Huff's
DO THEY BEAT PEOPLE THERE?
10/87
I stood silent among the columns and wondered
at the seed grown within my soul.
I'd get this feeling at times
that the lot of my life was large and finely tuned,
like the fires of a furnace.
I recall the sun swept streets where Romans walked
and I remember thinking;
Do they beat people there?
Seems I've seen our own streets and marble halls
buried in the sands of time,
sands that blow granular through storms and
atop thick dunes,
sands that have the mildest purpose
but deadly intent.
I stood silent among the columns and contemplated
our new gods.
I'd get this feeling at times,
like I was staring with the eyes of the devil
at skeletons covered with fine flesh and lies,
skeletons that walked and talked and, laughingly,
mocked the gathering dunes.
Do they beat people there?
I have asked of myself the truth but am
returned only dishonor.
I stood silent among the columns and
said nothing as the fine grains
blew across my sandal shod feet,
but only wondered;
Do they beat people there?
DO THEY BEAT PEOPLE THERE?
10/87
I stood silent among the columns and wondered
at the seed grown within my soul.
I'd get this feeling at times
that the lot of my life was large and finely tuned,
like the fires of a furnace.
I recall the sun swept streets where Romans walked
and I remember thinking;
Do they beat people there?
Seems I've seen our own streets and marble halls
buried in the sands of time,
sands that blow granular through storms and
atop thick dunes,
sands that have the mildest purpose
but deadly intent.
I stood silent among the columns and contemplated
our new gods.
I'd get this feeling at times,
like I was staring with the eyes of the devil
at skeletons covered with fine flesh and lies,
skeletons that walked and talked and, laughingly,
mocked the gathering dunes.
Do they beat people there?
I have asked of myself the truth but am
returned only dishonor.
I stood silent among the columns and
said nothing as the fine grains
blew across my sandal shod feet,
but only wondered;
Do they beat people there?
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