Tuesday, September 16, 2014



Remembrance is fool’s juice
the dead have no business here, now
there are no maps for the commerce of advice and
scripture is one way to practice amnesia
He who narrates is usually the last to eat
the listener will always avoid the center,
and allow the years to be removed
from the conversation.


To our surprise on aging we find
age is the reason for discardment
the rate of growth among the mendacious
is perforated with the debt of doubt,
we allow ourselves our decomposing
out of respect for the lunatics around us
We are consoled by the thrown-away the
vagrant the destitute and fraudulent.
We will not allow ourselves to be dissuaded
but instead we will be the laughingstock of the deceased.


Number eater your days are rendered
the wind and the wild tell your story
from market to wall your defects
become increasingly multiplied your
character petrified, storm-swept.
You are the killers of necessity
replacing aspiration with desire
the forbidden with the irrational
You are a dead sea.

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