Short Coronations Poems

Bull-black boots
stamping
like beating skin-tight drums
steel capped

with arched hands
clanking castanets
with crimson coronations 
like a goldfinch neck

A guitar's fevered fret
crescendos
                 a rite of spring
 kicking dust from bloodied boots

stomps off the romany's yoke
...

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(letters to my presido-elect): ii

the dregs
of the libations
enticing the gods
upon the shrines
of the uncurbed squander
of the treasuries –
o, the squander 
of earth’s roots!

& the kins sigh
as the mothers cry
for the fathers lie
in the tombs
the untimely tombs
of countless days –

& the uncurbed coronations
of the cows
reached the pompous limits:
the roof of native skies!

(TO BE CONTINUED)...

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