bullet or ballot
neither really valid
quick release
lock and load
repeat rinse
wash away
the blood
of another day
in which no one
spoke up against
the sin of daze
confusion
has us
awe struck again
rain as pain
slipping the noose
time is an immortal goal
we have of overcoming
why and what we live to die for
we are whores
for more with
no mores and fore ways
into forays neigh-neighs
and cushy sleighs
bay after bay
perth ghost
gist and mast head
we cut little notches in
every time we took to sea
and came back
ordinal numerical fondness for chaos
spider bug nazca lines
on old wood
your goddess routine sublimates me
I, ice to steam
no water between
us thus the poem
ends
dead
or quieted
by freedom
with one last
rush of wind
EJR ©
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