Perry Thompson

Death of the Hero



Myrtle Street Kid
the outlaw died

who used to gun
down men
without a thought
and laugh

who used to ride
with Butch
and kill iron horses
with a smile

who used to win
five card
stud with treys or deuces
and dance

now he rustles
papers
at the Badlands
Trailer Park

he knows he died
in your eyes
when you turned
and walked away

Diacetylmorphine



we are traveled
on a summer sea
into sleep and
dreamed to distances
beyond fantasy.

we are landed
on an island
of joy where
girls do not
nourish tombs
with flowers
nor make of
tomorrow a
temple of
mourning.

we go
at your pace
says the sleeper.
this is how people
can live without
books -- invisible
experience, the dark
rich soil
of dreaming

Happy Christmas



Old Bethelehem, sad mother,
lost her jewel.  One starry night
he slipped away while 2,000 infants
felt the sword through their hearts.

Old Bethelehem, cruel mother,
ate her young in stark mangers
under spiked stars.

Agony rose to heaven and sat
beside god on the throne.