smorgasbord of poetry, photos, political hairballs...MOTEs "More energy, grit and real life in them than 96.8% of the bullshit that comes into the Corpse."
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Monday, December 25, 2017
fire herd the hovel
my fire she sleeps in shells and seasons
kindling all reason, pearling our treasons
my ear to her bell a fucked up noel
no river no hydrant can soothe our spell
her angel faced flames make quick ghosts of groves
even the redwood and hermit crab know
leaping sleeps flicker from transient bracken
uprooting, returning, man what he's packin'
garages of garbage yet humans on sidewalks
ware house and where house and city hose talk
put out inferno tamp down the response
my fire he woke dilatory grey poupons
go muster, you must heard, all bread knife& shovel
her fire's afield, california the hovel
12-25-17
portland
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