Best Poem of Q. R. Gibson

Sleep Instead Of Dream
The night
looks in
with the secret light
of a thousand blinking eyes
dressed in indigo shadows
like a cocaine cutting whore;
grinding her teeth
on the post
of a knotty bed.
Lashes of trees - lids of
tickled persuasion.

Nightmares of black wolves
and thunder storms . . .
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All Summer It Rained
It rained every day that summer
we stayed on Lacewood
I remember the street outside
became a torrent around dusk
when the sewers and stormdrains
atop our street spilled over
and ran downhill
seeking a covenant with the ocean
It stormed and the thunder spanked
the lonesome midnight air . . .
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