Later Works: The Untimely Death of a Narrativist
Splashing till this work is done
shark eyes defied the cowardly brave
Ballinasloe bound under bloody sun
a dream to dare I could never save
Sliced out eyes starred back at shame
and me a man of courage watching
sloth machines burned out the flame
last long puffs from loved ones catching.
escape shorn from such short scutch-grass
beseeched above some pleading beaches
grouped ambitions became requiem mass
ineffectual grasps beyond our reaches.
fired, watered soil brought forth our mirth
but we never called it clay we called it dirt.