• a.p. duvall

I give you dust, and it's still not enough?

the music is bleeding through the back door

from open throat jugglers in parade uniforms

born losers passing around chloroform

and boxing promoters knelt together in the storm

if there's power in these hills who knows of it

or of its form

the coin's been flipped

the trap's been tricked

the messenger has been fooled

tongue-tied and whipped

the clock's been judged 

stones in the path been vilified

somewhere we've been spied

with our hands in the blood

or with our intentions

deaf, dumb and blind

write a letter to friends in small-towns

write to enemies you let down

write to the president and the circus clown

give praise to parking meters for standing ground

dream in your sleep not in the lost and found

heed dreamers who are acting proud

face the volume knob face the burial shroud

plan your future when it's over not during a deal

learn the fiction to decipher what's real

play the guitar badly and prepare to steal

touch your face and describe what you feel

laugh at the acrobat whose charm you stole

glare at the actor who played your role

eat the teeth sitting in the cereal bowl

deep breaths now, you're losing control

split the grin until the broke teeth glow

swing the scythe until the choked sick blow

pull the chains until the roped grease flow

kill the switch until the cope weeds grow

if there's power in this, our valley

whatever power it is, i don't wanna know


Recent Posts

See All


So, there was this mile long snake in my front yard. He'd been slithering past all day it seemed, and I could still pick out shapes of what the damn thing had ate. There was a wheelchair (sans owner),

Last Living Anarchist

Say hello to the last living Anarchist Say hello to the fast dealing switch Straight and narrow strayed the arrow and forever was he taught a glass and mutable thought in a subterranean husk mimicking

Golgatha in 25 km.

Twas 14th century China, and I was perched on my village's highest defense wall, looking out into the heavens on this one particular summer evening, when it happened to me. I was concentrating a parti

© 2020 by a.p. duvall.
  • Twitter