Comments about Amy King
The stone wall faded and no one felt
the revolution over their shoulders anymore.
Wrapped in paper, set upon the shelf
in the anteroom, the remainders shed
their insane gestures, returning to ply
the original trades: prostitutes, busboys
and salutations. The money rose straight
to the top. Terror wars commenced and the fires
rained upon the fields. In another dimension,
freedom couldn’t be the same. People disbanded
from groups altogether, learning only the lights
of neighborhood asylums. God fell apart
and words keenly followed. To say “I need ...