A Supper of Ghosts, Michael Paul Ladanyi
i want to commit suicide 100 times,
99 selves to shelve like lemon-water,
while night is still orange manic depression,
violin fish half-swimming.
mondays, vincent and i paint
black birds like winter eyes,
red and yellow lines on gray,
eat beans, potatoes and bread
on naked-speak afternoons,
a supper of ghosts and river stones.
he and I are pain in water flowers,
god a dead hero in stillborn eyes,
39/tin/rabbits/blue, our acoustic fear.
the cellar is damp, is 60’s albums
boxed and spider-lost.
vincent no longer lives there,
he and i are hungry,
wood-chimed and lung-fumbled.
(First published in Underground Window, July 2005.
(C) 2005, Michael Paul Ladanyi.)