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Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 8,160 Likes: 5
Top 25 Poster
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Top 25 Poster
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 8,160 Likes: 5 |
Crescent Valley Creek
It was a ribbon laid by some ancient rain it ran from the hills to the Crescent Valley plain young Liza Jane was shy as a midnight shadow eyes down as she hauled pails across the meadow golden locks framed a face lovely but gaunt tornadoes left her motherless and full of want Liza and her pa lived in a tin-roof farming shack ev'ry night she'd bathe and bring soup water back
from the Crescent Valley Creek
they put soapstones on their stove during autumn storms then slip them in their cots to keep their feet warm their bellies leaned on spuds and bulbs and spinach so they worshipped the ground like a graven image but some baron who wanted water shot their milkcow then he hired a gun to run them off somehow Liza'd stand on the porch to make sure the wind stood still then she'd walk to the water and her tears would spill
in the Crescent Valley Creek
there's a stairway from the stars to the dust it's only natural to feed on those under us bone-handled knives make beaver-tailed hats and bear-skinned rugs for some reason flesh survives by shedding blood but under the heavens all men are brothers and it's wrong to make bread of one another Liza thought being poor showed how her life'd be spent each night she saw how forever seemed to ferment
in the Crescent Valley Creek the Crescent Valley Creek
a thin red blanket lay upon the twilight hills the moon hung low and shone on a mallard's bill Liza's pa saw the rider and made her run and hide so she crawled down in the storm cellar outside she heard the rider kill her pa and leave him to rot eyes full of violet shade and a chest full of shot for so long life had been just her and him now it seemed they were barely ripples in
the Crescent Valley Creek the Crescent Valley Creek the Crescent Valley Creek
Liza snuck out and stuck that killer with a pitchfork he squealed like a pig but had neither soul or pork she pushed him toward the hole and he hit the cellar floor then spit down in the darkness and kicked dirt over the door she buried her pa near a patch of dandelions looked up and said a prayer to the lights of Orion she hoped she was born closer to the sky than sand and heaven shone down as she washed her bloody hands
in the Crescent Valley Creek the Crescent Valley Creek she hoped she was born closer to the sky than sand and heaven shone down as she washed her bloody hands in the Crescent Valley Creek
(c)2003 Robert George
[This message has been edited by couchgrouch (edited 12-28-2003).]
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