Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The Orange Goldamn

Shiver me tremblers

And decode the Oafs, the later damnable

Periscope gliders.

Then up, up & a weigh a ton

On it, sparkle-sparkle

Damnable olfactory.

The music of a violent death is much happiness

In crime, crimp, devoid

As inside the overhead compartment

Your tension straw slithers

As closer we cramp out shoulders.

I am driving on the ice, a thousand times

Spun with threads, catchy notes & song

Department officials trailing off

In the left hand lane, blinker-blinker

A flutter.

What do you mean? Asks the book.

This new undressing unveiled you. Spiraled

Notation, bank hammer

Smoothes the eggs into latent cups

Of disease, loose nostrils, tendrils in the outreach,

Search for the belligerent mother.


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