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Carl Sandburg
What does the hangman think about
When he goes home at night from work?
When he sits down with his wife and
Children for a cup of coffee and a
Plate of ham and eggs, do they ask
Him if it was a good day's work
And everything went well or do they
Stay off some topics and talk about
The weather, base ball, politics
And the comic strips in the papers
And the movies? Do they look at his
Hands when he reaches for the coffee
Or the ham and eggs? If the little
Ones say, Daddy, play horse, here's
A rope — does he answer like a joke:
I seen enough rope for today?
our usual business
is sickness:
all the hurt
to all our families
a great feast of work
cards to the blind
through great grief is a narrow road
to gratitude for goodness
work and family
I miscarry a sea and cannot bear
my new day alone
private as a fart
this man of money
to keep his wit in
an after-dinner glass
and his family in a false
laborious account
My mother’s cursing
and swearing take
possession of the heads
in the hall.
The dog and I play
at theater, dancing,
hungry for want of dinner.
The slow and steady
accumulation of snow
making everything strange
reminds me of my father
reading aloud to the family
from a book in his lap,
the whisper of pages turning,
each of us building a picture
all our own.
"S/He likes to call everyone s/he meets a friend.
That kid that smiled at him/her in the hall?
His/Her new bestie.
S/He's very outgoing,
And gets into trouble sometimes.
Likes to use ADD/ADHD and his/her mental health as an excuse for things.
And thinks that he/she's a gender she/he's not.
But he/she's a bit better now."
Am I, or did I learn to hide it from you better?
Can I tell you something?
You mean the world to me,
You're never off my mind,
I love you for everything you let me know,
And everything I'm yet to ask.
I love how you look when I speak,
How you hear the words I say,
How you think and then respond,
How you treat me like an equal.
I love how you joke with me,
You talk with, not to me,
You answer no matter how strange-
I ask a lot of strange-
I want to meet your family,
Want you to meet mine,
Want to see you eating dinner
Born into this world,
A different kind of guy,
An uphill struggle from the start,
Not accepted by the majority,
Not wanting to admit to this world,
What makes me different,
Dating as many girls as I can,
To try and change myself,
Not wanting to admit to myself,
What is inevitably true,
I deny myself of reality,
Hoping to please you,
The moment finally comes,
When I can deny no more,
Out to you I reach,
For acceptance and love,
With the cameras focused on me,
My voice suddenly alters,
As my lines come forth,
Possessing a new identity,
My hair unlike what it’s been,
My style completely different,
Unrecognizable to family and friends,
Feeling like an out-of-body experience,
When the cameras are turned off,
And I exit the set,
I can set aside my character,
And can again be myself,
As I travel home,
To see my wife and kids,
I suddenly feel naked,
Like something’s missing,
I close my eyes,
Morning slips away.
Beneath my lids,
Light begins to fade.
The visions come,
When all goes black.
Sometimes peaceful,
Others mind attacks.
Blocking out,
The rest of the world.
Floating shapes,
Misty lines and swirls.
Blurry faces,
Forgotten time ago.
Returning to drop by,
And say hello.
Bidding his final goodbyes
Tears in his wife's eyes
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
Sons to be fed
Daughter to be wed
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
Swift as the wind he rides
Far from where he resides
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
The stench of death fills the air
Close to the creature's lair
The scrawny farmhand
Moves for the kill