harvesting
pent up emotional lahars
where
first you go to the poem
in
the bend crawled thirst
at
river side neck side enthralled
ready
at the burst ripe
we
eat this kind of display
the
flaming out of life
caught
on camera now
instead
of memory
our
brains are scattered
in
Rorschach designs
across
the windshield
we
are driving the stakes
and
taking the hearse
to
where the heart
won't
matter anymore
and
our souls are
pole
flat bottom boating
to
where no poem comes
from
what we have been fed
to be bled
to the surface
quick
strike lead to hammer
dead
ringer and the requisite apologies
on
the eleven o’clock news
propaganda
machine
desensitizing
us until the lean
and
fat are separate entities
from
the bone and
we
are curled up fetal ends
in
the hot bath of molten mud
that
frames the yearn completely
as
we want at near the speed of sound
our
cries are burned beyond
recognition
and all that is left
is
the shape of what we used to be
bodies,
souls, love and desire
EJR
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