Saturday, March 26, 2011

Nearby Catastrophes

link to website update


We join the cult of insubordination
and commit dearest marriage with our own eyelids
and teach love's lessons to
the impersonators of our sins
the shadows rise against our unspeakable offenses
as the junkman halls away the cult of the past
we are indecent instruments
courting beauty and its partner,
fragmentary light-
cruising the streets with strict martinets
looking for a telephone
we are encouraged to go out through the windows
and join the flying voices outside.


O, don't ask me how
I got this tail
you might smell thanks and
get poetry
O, go for the pleasant answer
the easy answer
these blind days
may just amuse you.

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