March 29, 2013

did you know names mean nothing, when smiles have eaten them...

art by David Ho ©

every birth inside the Golden Dawn Lottery Bibles
(a poem composed with the help of the ghost of Shirley Jackson)

sickened and quickened
a ticket voucher system hurls
along broken down highways
easy pass storms are coming
we seek shelter in the exposed concrete
we shove our faces until
we are full of rust
we know how to steal the Dawn
keeping our wallets, a handy quiet cull
the seed birds kill off the blue jays
they are told to beware of noisy thieves
who make you think despite the loss of eyes

sand bar tides scratch and dent metal maternity wards
bubble wrap disco parties with Crisco-lard squeeze shimmy time
is now a national rave, though something is missing
can you taste absence in the bug juice
the vendors outside the gates kept shouting
as we filed through with our hands out
the smell of death was beside us, neon signs blinking
and flashing Jonestown revelries in Morse code
cup after cup the uteri were all gone
left longing for roots and placenta companionship
the rise in accepting less information
delays heaven, as voices in the dark, whisper
this ignites every sepulcher fantasy culture
and normal is only a means to be stoned with

we carry each of ourselves in a bottle as an imp
we name our baggage
we give it terms of construction, destruction and re-build
we go forth looking for shapes in the dark, revolver blind bluffing
we feel our way, Russian roulette at the wheel
tell me something, are we still missing
can I kiss you right here before the gates let us in
can I cling to whatever forever you remember us in
can we wait until the Sun rises over the steep roofs
on the other side of the street and while we stand
can we pretend to know what the birds used to sing


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