Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Wire Gristle

A-Chaw on your horse back
Hotel, you! Needed to go a-wunt
Out the pine chest with her labial instep.
No spit-spit in this breath factory.
You womb up a nice gristle
And make a heave for it,
Inside there’s a canyon in gravy
And gutters from the other store
And neon light, like wire light
Ablazein on your hopes, the matches
And gasoline you hung it all
On at the first loopy hangover
Which meant you were nearer deathin
Than all the future would mean.

1 comment:

claybee said...