THO DEATH HAS NO DOMINION IT STILL STICKS ITS BLOODY OAR IN

 

death is a bad fact
& blunt
like a sperm whale

&
fate is a river of silt
with tent city banks

& echoes have teeth
& the past is litigious

but no matter that

that world is gone

CHEKOVS AMBO

an ambo 

with blue lights 

but siren quiet

pulls up 

in the street at night 

& foreshadows 

the stories

of us all

 

ROSE TINT

the president of the united states
that clean cut charmer
is laid back & logical
& sane & healthy
& vibrates with integrity

in this movie i am watching from the 1990s

hollywood is such sweet escape sometimes

~

& i get it now
how the oldsters

get attached to their stories

why not
watch the glass people frolic
in their 2d sun ?

in the face of decrepitude
blunt loss
& the smoking detritus of nuked dreams

ON FARM GAS

i had drifted 

into a lighter

version of this world

where my headache
was a golden hologram
up above my crown

& intensity

crept in but politely 

via the open back door

~

freedoms
strange
twilight
tastes of ghosts 

like nostalgia

but with a seaside kick

& that kind of chemical metal tang

like blood would 

on a hot gun

EVEN A FREAKING CAULDRON

i worked at the hospital
with dumb white dough men 

proud to never ever go 

into their own home kitchen

& if they knew the missus

would be out at bingo

theyd have their chicken dinner 

in the canteen here

& theyd act all smug about it 

like theyre goddamn winners

now i see the kitchen as where 

its socially acceptable  

to play with big steel knives

in a frenzy of flesh & fire

necking cooking booze

among the blood & bones

with power ballads on the radio

& even a freaking cauldron