January 6, 2013

step right up and spin the wheel...

photo, courtesy of Ian Welch ©

the bark-cagians

they are all that is left
of a race of us
that are said
to have had
the loud feral
genetic markers
of heavy metal exposure
a recessive coupled denial
one’s own freewill entombed
for survival, gambling
against mitochondrial armies
protease paddling cilia

our limb-ed histories
are woven destinies
they are what we seize
what opportunities
are the chances
we have taken
each hand dealt
every pocket lightning
and thunder taken to jars
plastic everywhere
on the sky is a brine
for even a Winter Sun
can spell cancer
for northern folk

we broad-leaf naps
and dream of melanin
under our hats visiting
ice cream stands
with time stretched
in the light
of the warm tilt
bending of Summer
at carnival season
permeating the air
lashing itself along
the plank wood
and clap signs
of our boardwalks
it sings a fast
uneasy and greasy
song, by the sea


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