Steven Buckley Poems

In the purple twilight
God’s butchers flew.
Angels of beauty
Cleaving the light
...

So beautiful
Sublime creation within
The iris on the floor
A gleam of royal velvet
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A ninety four proof suicide
Slow and painfully numb
The poisoned fountain inside
Flowing out a pale blue bottle
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The man who breathed a tune
In the corner of the commons
Moved his hands deftly across
His face
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Hypothesize it
Study it
Perfect scrutiny
Horrible details
...