Wednesday, March 1, 2017


slip of the tongue stream, it was
the most beautiful ivory tower we
ever detonated & watched explode,
while holding hands in the rubble
and the mechanics are something i

like to think of as precipitation
or binomially named, cloudbusting
and see thou to that: knocking in
my knees and heart, which absorb-
ed most of the impact of the fee-

ble shrapnel & can't we have done
with the foreplay and long, dron-
ing infinity? longing for nothing
so much as a comfortable place to
sweat out judgment day, alleluia;

i realize that i am unbeautiful &
i've found that it really doesn't
make the slightest difference.. i
build with my hands, folding them
peacefully in order to sleep, and

through this meditation an essen-
tial fact becomes made manifest..
in other words, in other domains,
and most of all, in another life-
time: everything there is to know

about life is shrouded in plastic
and sold for dollars on the penny
and get this: none of it's ameri-
can-made! give it thought, and it
will settle into st. elmo's fire.

No comments:

Post a Comment