November 6, 2014

the fates are bringing desserts...

illustration by John Held Jr.

still life in cherubim voodoo stew

(radio voice crackles, unattached)

“…in a spun magnet, a fire for a belly indicates want, a terra firma place setting, with full silver service over the courses, this, ladies and gentlemen, would suit your appetites finely…”

sewing little indignation(s) into penny scrap dolls
I spell and poem by exhale into each one/
leave them where silence comes to eat the words/
paper, rock and scissors eyes/
button down clown suits round a table/
the strange cornered sharpen your senses/
high gloss sheen to vernaculars
particulars coming to look/
I shuffle documents fidgeting/
nerves examine the perils
a body count in my head/
who deserves, how can I judge/
what kinds of limbs
reach and express
something more pure
than I otherwise
might imagine myself
to be…

boss man, lord tan lady shade/
I've made deals before someone gets paid/
I've hired attorneys with concubine crop fare/
hieroglyphic reading tea/
honey, infinity sweetened
inside wax sealed jars/

I've arranged mementos
afterglow kept things
I’ve written down
following desire, pleasure
and bliss while not letting
unsavory ever get too far 
away from me 

I am dust and bones
heading towards wear
rain feasts low…