there’s beauty in…

IX

THE GAPING HOLE

In the ground
In your face
In his heart
In her speech

X

THE UGLINESS OF PAGEANTRY

Why else would it be done?
Plastic tiaras pasted onto the
Front of stetsons
Stuffed with paper to keep shape
Are no more than
The dreams of children

XI

HOLES IN CEMENT WALLS

The force of half uttered sot propelled
Slang
Born out of the dry dust of river
Creeks
Born out of the wanderings of
Notime
In alltime surrounding the
Myths
Legends of dreamtime travelled
Speed
Through plaster partitions through
Glass
Over the clay tiles and without
Stopping
To check on passers by cut
Holes
Cement walls in the smaller
Corridor
An arm of an unassuming
Shopping
Arcade leaving dust to
Continue
Drop from the cracks
Long
After the fighting
Screaming
Subsides but not before
Blood
Rises within each other’s
Throat
Teeth bared clothes ripped
Haunches
On the back of necks and soon the
Spectacle
Of their anger; their blood needed to be
Mopped
And wiped but that would have to
Wait
Until long after the sun had set
Angry
Conference of words; bodies
Oblivious
The audience they had
Drawn
In the brawl of their violent
Passions.

Text: © J. L. Nash, 2010
Images: © Federico Forlani

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