The world's a thousand tongues long,
kneedeepthick.
Memory sings a river of history
tossing our bubbles
Along the horizon until we balance,
or steam Hits
the cold autumn encompassing,
Until the newest bestests shirk and shun
The signals creasing evening
Into origami feigning ministers
and heads of state
We ratify and adhere to the codes of barbarism inscribed
On our ignoble gene troughs
When we deign to dabble
in esoteric spasms
Of maudlin mod art, glory swine at the fair
As shallow as a ring toss game
As blank and callused
as the ferris man's lever thumb
Hijack your self
one liberty every foot a day,
Buddy can you spare a crime?
Mine is mint condition,
said sabertoothsoothsayer,
Warble on, weary flotsam
No comments:
Post a Comment