Reducing the Substance

Hopeful brown luminescence on my curious
Boots. By my hazard signs, road, I’m stigmatized
To your random pipe fixture. Fixed chromatic
And despicable.
Hegemonic Bunsen burners
Materialize in the back streets
With loose change or attitudes
Of art, the scrounged recon of a concrete seam
And suddenly the velvet ropes appear, like unto
Gold stems, the vapors, the Challenger blossom
Towards a recognized lapse.
One lead, two leads
I failed math in the 9th grade
Because the shuttle exploded.

And consequences trudged.
I flipped into a back-up folder
Where the music played as in
A music hall for the damned.

And it was good upon the waters. Target:
The waters, I took up later with the scientists
Who always need a good Igor no matter
The degree, all storms require someone

To trudge through on purpose

On agency the mind of god befuddles
The purpose of pouring vatfuls of acid
Down public drains. The orange clouds,

The orange clouds vitamin orange
And oil slick the skin as it decomposes

Like the rain on boots, like the slick
Shudder which noodles me, uncoils me to recall
The complex arrangement of stains on the ground
Where, foundered lapsarian, I felt my face

Receive the portrait canvass and rebound.