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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