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when the wolves
creep into town
a quarter past
a fifth of whiskey
from the bottle
is gone,
 
the hills
hide their faces,
sharp teeth dangling like
stars,
rabbits slip sleep away
in their beds of blood,

and I sit in a room
dimmed with light,
unable to sleep
chewing on a world
full of war, hypocrisy,
deceit and murder,
the strain of joblessness
and a foreclosure
paper on my table

just knowing that
awful newspaper
will soon be coming,
shotgun from a car window
missing the porch steps
and landing on the dew
lawn, six in the morning.


Anthony lives in Texas with his two children. His poems have appeared in several print and on-line journals, forthcoming in Twisted Tongue,  The Stray Branch and Clutching at Straws, The Beat and Fantastic Horor. He is an author of four poetry collections.
   
 



I began writing poetry in 1992, progressively changing my writing style over the years, from sentimental, to outcasts, to the negative sides of life, now mostly of other lives in times of desperation. With the economy the way it is, and going through a job loss, I find myself in the root of my writing and at the pivotal point of this desperation, trying to make ends meet. This poem kind of gives a general view and sheds a light to the fears I'm facing.

 





  


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