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TERRY BOWDEN
INDEX OF RETROSPECTIVE POETRY
where past and present interweave















 


 
 

 

DISINTERROGATION
 

  I sharpened up my rhyming sticks
    and belted up some lines
  of molten screens and lining scenes
    that scan the gods for signs.
 

  We sailed behind our broken masks
    without a wholesome act
  no way to mend these shattered casts
    nor hold souls' holes intact.
 

  You didn't even star to know
    the pains attendant now
  you're spared the need to take a bow
    the stage devoured the show.






TERRY BOWDEN