Only Seventy-Two Years Past

Well this
Is different and not all
To his liking when the sun;
Interrupted not in dust or
Hanging moss but
Spaded thru'

He took to Home.
The radio played a tinny
Selection.

Hat jaunty, he believes
In Salvation what else,
And the Road Signs were as
He remembered. That family
Place selling carved tombstones
Cheap in these days

"Glory Road"

They curse Sherman and
Go to the swamps where the
Dead are buried

Which, proclaiming
"Necessary Evil"
He went Home. The cardinals and doves
Converged in the pastures and some
Alchemist made the heat into marshes
And herons and hawks.

Listen, still...

He disliked it, of course,
But less so then spaded suns
And all. The Car cut thru'
The layers of dust and sin
And Pride. He vaguely recalled
An old man rambling over the Devil.
Salvation was all! Understand?

~ Damn him ~

Sherman and the Devil and
How much, echoing Dresden, yet to be then, of course,
Yet to be...only something Here was
Broken.

Not,
Tho'.