He by Constant L. Williams


Passing Dark, #78 by Kris @ EcclesiastesOneTen

He

He, boot-footed stomper on the wrinkle-skin grapes of life,
crusher of the war-wounded, the wanting, the wasted,
waster of the weak, waning moon falling upon the planets,
again and again.

He, stick-poker of the corpse, pryer of the cliff-finger, hangnail
bleeding upon the digits, blood-slick floor slipping the rescuer, ladder-
lurch and ladder-break, breaking like the body of Christ between
communion teeth.

He, unforgiving unkillable messenger who letter-bludgeons receiver,
paper cut from the Bible, ink-stain on skin that cannot be washed,
wet glue-tongue sealing hate-mail, mailman slot-stuffing payment
stamped: return to sender.

He, pain-reliever of the unrelenting pain, merciful brainer of the deck-fish,
aspirin of answer-askers, of the ankle-sprain lonesome, the rot-tooth agony,
agony-ender and puller of the end-plug that should have been pulled
long, long, ago.

He, right-handed inevitable, He, seven-armed fury, He, world-destroyer,
flesh-feaster, scent-follower, fox-hound, heron-beak, clock-breaker,
brick-maker, swamp-muck, tree-shade, shadow of the shadow. He,
Robin plucking worms from thawing grave-soil each morning before dawn.



Constant L. Williams

Constant L. Williams is a student, poet, artist and proto-human from Los Angeles, California. His poems have appeared in a variety of magazines such as FishFood, Ikleftiko, and Paris/Atlantic. He has traveled and lived all around the world, involving himself in literary communities from Paris Lit Up and Spoken Word Paris (Paris, France), to Da Poetry Lounge (Los Angeles, USA). He currently attends the University of Southern California and continues to work on his first full length collection. For more information visit constant-constant-williams.squarespace.com