November 18, 2015

morsel morality, bright packaging too...

( 1910's European postcard )







morsel morality, bright packaging too...

(it is the future, 
the dead presidents 
will be required 
to play with our balls)

it will very much be like warmed up leftover party favors 
saved stolen away into crumpled pocketed secret regard 
brushed nickel butt crack the scent of not so wiped-ly 
clean doth rising surmising it might be time to bathe 
though these poems will be cut loose as if crumbled cheese 
trying the buying lines of convenience in gas-n-sip-a-thons...

and with our nightmares we've dressed
in dreamy drag vine tying dying 
as we greet the tides rain to ripe 
mountain birth is crept clay soul 
pine rooted curried goods 
and services crawling cities, 
we walk standing bones atop bones...

the countryside loam(s)
say we are valley river tongues 
we sing old songs 
we watch the flocks
as words decay
what's written decays
what's uttered decays 
meanings decay, we decay 
even while young 
stealing eggs 
and udders 
in slow tarantella 
we tell it more 
as we begin to store 
our stories in go 
and go and go 
in exhale and inhale 
as a tale to be told 
though not being so bold 
as to do so forecast-ed ham-fist-ed-ly...

--------------------

the bastard wore 
a sly smile and
ran over to where 
no one could see him
he looked like     a glow stick 
that went dark     for a reason 
saw himself,           a white deer 
and always in season...

--------------------

EJR ©

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