voting for safety fishes and deadly
bread
the deepest parts
I mimic, an ocean’s ability
to fathom a kept quiet
a kingdom
of mountains and
deep valley lore
of underwater places
that whore stories
in every world
without an eye
out, capturing Suns
at the bottom
of every humanity
we manage
to escape from
I
understand
black
fade pronology
and
tactical home
invasion
plans
packing
vitamins
and methodologies
for
the long haul
I
used to hang pictures
accomplishments on walls
now
I hang absolute thin
butterfly
wing versions of who I am
and each
one of them
hooks a little more life
eating krill in the traffic flow
of
planetary bodies
and
scabbard daisy cultures
in the petri-dishes
of a social and
genetic experimentation
that passes off as
city, nation, and state
ritual adherence
don't stop the car
leave him alone
don't give him a ride
he
might be crazy
he hears whispers
in the eaves
his bats aren't in
the belfries
they seem piqued
to kerosene
and soaked newspaper tales
insulating old houses
ripening burn-memories
more quickly
he'll disease you
he's petulant
and a drive and stop
shock therapy waiting
at the side
of
any road
you happen to
pick him up on
across America
somewhere else is beauty
the distractions sing through glass
long
after swerving
missing, hitting pain
you will be still be jaded
a stone deer in the headlights
drawn to numb pole boundaries
and knocking power out
along little piece of the wired land
emergency lights flashing
insurance companies
monitoring the scanning
where
woe be gone
is a brand of dreams
that is loading rights
to
store munitions, water and fuel
for the searches
for
the rescues
for the allocations
for the artistry
of
surviving post apocalyptic breakdown of order
when
every electrical means of stimulation
will
have come off the street and a little closer
to
where it may mean something other
than
chumming the surfaces of emotions
to
cull what Love can be baited
with linseed oil and the dirty rags
sometimes kept, in a cardboard box of stain
near
the back door of the garage
tucked
underneath the makeshift table
that
houses all the spare parts
of monetary science's electrical blooms
for
just such an emergency
my
country, tis of thee
fattening up on every refined
part of me
the parts that
cloud the gravy
biscuits waving
eating truth made
with
too much glue
with
too many mouths
waiting
wanting
trying
to hoard
all the lies
spilling
out
in crumble
bolus bones
shelter
nominations to court
deaf
jesters serving kings
hear
ye hear ye all ye in the milk and honey package landings
on
the piers with moorings loosened purse strings
you
judeo-christian western civilized mob band of punitive danger
you
are an entitled dark prayer
you
tell skin what you will eat
you
clean shit to shine something that smells like it used to
and
you know you are all God’s soldiers now
shouldering
holstered missiles on the down low
ready
to shoot through crossroad blue shifting motivations
full
of under achieving in the tides and the mischief game
of
spreading blame to steal what night paints velvet with
under
the yellow sodium sorrow of burning potash destinies
alchemy
surrenders rust to the city scapes
four
leaf clover-ing elements to their knees
in some
sort of genetic farming of luck gone bad and
being that we are, so
far
removed from lettuce and bread
we
begin to thirst for raw flesh only
bone
on roadside attractions and
mobile
kitchen bleeds
make
it all pudding
in
tied laces over head
go
block to block
fighting
to remember
the
old telephone poles
perched
with birds and wires
at
sunrise and sunset
in
colored sneakers
designating
what now is sold here
at
the bonfires of contamination
time
and memory
mouth
our certainty of wanting
we
crawl anything
to
know eternity
to
find this delta tined and
silted
with messianic sway passages
harbingers
in corridor prophesy and
re-writable
magnetic prescription devices
that eventually
will be phase out
when the
implementation of soft bound covers
seek out the hard applications
of
bullets and hammers
striking
at our targets
before
stars leave
the
night sky alone
and
we are out
shouting and counting
madness for country and
sadness for feeling alone
begging
for somewhere
between
security
and the freedom
to
atone for any
statistical anomaly
that doesn't match
our mythology
of paper righting
the occasional
wrong plot turn
EJR
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