The Dead Boys

by Stephen Paden

Dead boys play in red sand
sustained between measures
dead reeds pulled together
by cold lips on dead words
the dead boys sing the songs
of love and dead rememberance
the holes that fill the empty buckets
where anger and knives threaten fullfillment
a place where love has no place
where notes in the air are filled by
love
by forceful joy
by a warm breath
followed by shallow
cold
words

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