Volume 18 – G Ross Murray

Dear Katy, Texas (2018)

~Ross Murray

You shot off your rocker old man
Some bad day job blown-off!
Playing a young ten-year-old’s game
He was so unhappy he came back to work on his skull

“But my head ain’t right” said a’Boy
Father barreled flounder in obscene obsolescence;                                                                                                           In: waiting room.
Country twang, radio ash
(No food)
No ice, tea,
No thing t’drink…

While standing
The thrash fumble of oxidized newsprint
Back picture frame
Scance scans the séance
A-Glass-Tilt reframed:

In the plastic cover chair his skull cap was cut

shorter to look pretty
Barber free…
He swore he heard in the bulbous light
Deafeningly shrill halogen
Circuit connection:

…Barber for free…


Barking Derogatory Dilapidation
Off flipped son hand crush
Up-down eye scanned judgement
Magazine ceiling scant

Oxidized Four-Door-ed Honda-Grey
Southern Heat Gale
Muddled gnat ‘bug-flie’
Up high seat:
larynx- light house sea-crashes

But, Father gun
And mother heat-wave-sun

Th’ Allur-ed Red-Eye Vending a’corner
Most Secretive Dirt             no foot sounds
Stomach openings…

White bile spewed
Frothing foam
Tiered tearing away out sideways
Peripheral bawl yelp pleas; ceiling I brain

Out th’ tongue-tied bazaar galleria flea-market
Peeling cement tar:
…a hospice-al!

I can’t help
but think
what young crushed boy-hand will turn,
                                                           from his cut skin


He couldn’t fix his head though he did it for him

for free

Grey Car Abscond-Away
“Day ‘is daddy said he’d take’m to a haircut”

So he shot him, Katy
Three times.