The Day Is Not the Same. the Day Is Gone.
Over a yellow River of {Drunken} Smiles,
A Dove, faded by erasures and weeks
suffocating Crashing rotten Joy--- orgasm Smell of Arrested Motion
Coming swift without Warranty or Return Policy
Almost invisible Dusty Distance
Crossed in the Span of Half past a Width,
The Corner of Oblivion, Bliss
And some terrible cockney Face
Cat Calling
Agony.
(Who {btw} Doesn’t respond)
Suddenly Leering, Voices at our Side---
---- “Just the Thing to Clean a Mans Blood”
{Pause.}
{Blank Stare.}
--------Looking down at Himself
“Damn! That pissing croakers really certified…”
{Walking Away}
Glad as
The Street drowns the Voice like Kittens or Babies
(Unwanted)
And the Cold finds me, for Some reason
{Newly Refreshing}
The Hand behind, takes, Fingers Warm
And Softer then they aught to Be.
Eyes Shining, with Cold elastic Birds dwelling within.
Drunk {Sss} miles Leering, from the Shadows, I glance over,
He laughs, (I have no Idea why)
And I watch as Erasures, Weeks, Years, Take another swipe of him Away.
Just a Memory…
Something,
As if Spilling:
Some Thin strand
Effete
Green eye
And Silvery, Persistent Honey.
The Swallow
That even Sleeping, Flying, Lives on my Eyes.
{+} or {='s}
Decisions bursting Forth, some nocturnal voice, with a shout.
{a Dead Dove, With a Number!}
I Dial the china Blue Sky and Drifting clouds, fear flickering In and out of my Eyes.
(Click) (Words that would, --------then
}go Here)
Your voice ripples when I touch it, like a River…
No Longer a Bird, I Realize…
Nothing but a Sad voice… Rotted by Time.
(I Hang Up the Phone)
And then
Life... just…
Continues on…
-thend-
|