Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Crumbling Worldview

I’m precarious in the haze from
The memory of the world’s trading
For bones, fresh baby jingles
Like key chains or charm bracelets.

I’m edgy like a doom in the aircraft
They’re made with. Sludgy like
A slick of jet fuel in the swamp

My every-swamp a sarcophagus
Bemolded; put together before
The concrete hardens, before
The daylight strikes a clear

Path through the thinking
Lobes and the boardroom woodens
With scattering officials.

1 comment:

Clay Blancett said...

scattering officials scattering officials.