December 30, 2012

a glazed film-noir memory of desperately running to a phone booth in the rain, with a grabbed hand of change...

cast metal and ceramic banks wear top hats to signify rank

the Bering strait
the Bering sea
the Bering land bridge
bearing all we will
ever come to bare
weighted to be

we once thought
gold had claws and
raked the sky at night
how empirical were
the first humans to inhabit
what is now North America
did they plan on becoming legend
museums on demand, sandy ghosts
whisked atop a once, an endless sea of grass
entire plains ripped open for factory farms
where we once thought
gold had claws and 
raked the sky at night
we now know why
we have pushed for fences
once comfort started to squeeze us
inside the wide open spaces
of América del Norte

we are at our core
an impaled skin
a hairless toothed
bored regard
of left hands
and protein 

we boar hunt
borrowing against
our humanity
in guarded secrets
every year as to
when and where
the mayhem of guns
and liquor would begin
when xenophobic shallow 
gene pool training and
evocations suffice as 
payment methodologies
hand in hand with faith 
instead of sold insurances
that we've long since stopped
putting down, in writing
figuring our stores of iron, brass,
powder and flasks would be enough
to out last anyone, in a war of dug holes

all to win the hollow of husks
akin to shooting fish
in a small barrel glad
wish handling of emotions
in reality, we only stretch out
our little necks
of the woods
through glorifying
the comforts of our cages

we are nowhere, near
out of reach from where
contagious meteors might strike
or bacteria chances a ride
on the eternal simplicity of the wind
looking for a piece of paradise
to bug out and multiply in


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