and i look at the sun
its like its Everything
untouchable and riding
these machined cement lands
quiet yellow circle
huge unignorable
on a blue throne scratched by planes
not from around here . . .
and
attended by painted clouds
and i wonder
that we
pick at each others sores
press on each others buttons
build the mood for Everyones Endtimes
in clear sight
of
it
our yellow Everything
from endtimes.news
i change
a line
or two
in the
mess of words
i made
and call
it a day
make a
brew
find a
movie
find
painkillers
wondering
if socrates
was as good
a soldier
as they said
and if
there are
any other words
as solid sounding
as republic
~
over the road
steptoes
back lit
front room
net curtain
looks like
a milky cataract
a naked bulb
is lit all hours
what he doing
in there ?
247 patrol
in his
republic of junk ?
from bt.com
