the
fancy parting seas of humanity and enmity during a blackout and the drying up of generosity between
America
we
are eternity calling
we
want you to keep
your
knickers on and
all
your senses
about
you
the
electrical grid
has
been sabotaged
there
are no television broadcasts
there
are only
word
of mouth games now
the
ham radios are working
but
crowding around the tents
seems
useless and a chattel response
with
the wind calling
in
prattle prairie pounds
scattering
dry paper sounds
over
the concrete
in
scurries and curries
of
completion
or
at least
the
secretions
of
skin over bones
in
the dark
we
smell each other
and
ourselves, differently
without
the incessancy
of
white noise hymnals
without
humming palpitations
our
mouths make
aping
blank expressions
in
shaken etch-a-sketches
that
are waiting rooms
with
nurses sliding by
the
revolving doors
in
candle spun eyes
before
any doctor
makes
us wonder
if
those smiles
are
a good thing
while
we bleed out
willing
to pay
one
kidney at a time
for
more antibiotics
we
heard were stored
here,
near the edges
of
the windmill forests
turned
to triage centers
I
am crawling
sick
to death
of
politics
and
its antics
of
dehumanization
we
can paint
cave
walls
with
what we
have
had poached
in
blood and bags
the
drip lined garden
variety
mined sanctities
of
being on our knees
feeding
the Earth
with
the gravity
from
our veins
we dance
our morals
into codes
and bleeds
and
we seem
to
have been born
with
this harvest
in
our hands
so
that we may
sell ourselves
more days afoot
when choosing chance
with a pocket
full of paper
we
quickly fall prey
to
the churches
in the dark
their methodologies
of tightly wound bandages
of being
in a group
is
instinctual
is
madness
wanting
to survive
being
faceted
by
exclusions
and
the angles
that
make
the
diamond
shine
brightest
on
the side
of
the fence
that you
happen
to
be on
EJR
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