Thursday, August 10, 2006


Zombie pulp and cash flow enmesh
Their descriptions, drive new cars

Into the ditch trying the ramp
Over the razor wire, wire dogs

Mash computer files of dream sequence
Gone sour, aphasiac like the noose borne

Shiver me chiggers, me skin’s loose up
Not sad about it, just not altogether

Neither, there in that suppository dark
Peeping tracheal for melancholics

Who there trips out ship chop bloody
After blocks, party hammocks

Giftwrap coke machines dream stink
Swipe patterns on green, splatters.

1 comment:

claybee said...

honey, this machine just called me an asshole!