................................... are we wear where we are ...............................

spread us nude north america 
are we thin whiskey 
are we corn copper still 
are we hidden filled 
limestone caverns beneath 
chaos grove-d old trees 
the neighborhoods and quarters drawn 
heed to please here here 
hear hear herd heard dear deer 
the wolves and lions prowl hunger 
we wear pride, what desire skins 
bones to soul captive will freed 
and ride 'there goes fire in the air 
daring the dead light of stars to realize 
our parents are from out there ...

fish or fowl 
humanity needs 
to be the children 
of Antigone 

every culture 
recorded, remembered 
or stolen from then erased 
has a tale told 
of the prophecy of greed 
it is an algae mechanism 
it is, it does thirsts\y rain 
it is in crawls, intention spawn 
with an estuary entropy 
with mention of urgency 
it emerges sea to river 
and splurges 
as sacred 
the ways 
to a dominant 
breathing while 
consuming now ...

in each instant instance 
of chosen comfortable cages 
the sage survival 
we happen to choose 
is not happening to care 
or be aware other than 'being worn 
and weary of that as well ...

this predation elation-al channels 
tomb to church varietals 
seasons and terroir 'one presumes 
we are, aren't we born with blood 
on our lips, doesn't this 'constitute 
passion and play 
doesn't this lurch 
almost unseen certainly 
and not felt enough 
to repeat which way 
found you, salvation ... 

(at this point in the story 

the open road greets us 

in choir tones, found 

spear headed Jocasta, 

a good grand maternal 

bark and apple fine 

and by the way 

I like to save things 

in jars)

sew life to life 
is a recollection plate 
immutable spirit surfing 
most of us mesmerized 
sofa chattel gyrate 
we want easy cheesy 
sweet and greasy 
we know 
electronic warfare is 
interference gangland morphology 
we became, we become 
we be numb to those thirteens 
those squads of sharp invisible leads 
tide basin babies  thrown out bathing reeds 
the laundry and the middles of roads 
always seem dirty, deeds to be cleaned
Lady Macbeth places we lose sight of : 

are they what 
we are to know 
sown seed shoot 
petal flower reach 
each fleeting scent 
we jar 
of ourselves 
heavens knot hells ...

are we gill and anxieties 
are we keyed codons 
are we teeming tepid 
slow friction warming hordes 
boiled roiled squeezed weeds 
are we in some lord and or lady
instinctual hoe down 
are we separated realities  
player piano remarks 
are we larks and other 
songs night sings to plead 
its case of why eggs have shells 
and we have hens' teeth 
when late Winter 
starts to turn toward Spring 
are we its seethes 
and seeps, are we, are we ...

EJR ©