Continued from previous page
Scissioned by the horologe a baldachined parvenu, innubile, gravid with fondant obtunds the intestate day’s sere solfeggio
For the inamoratos there is only effulgent suttee.
into flame sparrows wings
a bullet can pass through only so many bodies before it stops
my mind craves her like narrative her lack is the start of my stories
noah called the animals two by two the dove was a fool to return
life keeps dropping the soap i keep bending over to pick it up
it is a january night even the smallest birds have left my feeder
a bible bound in human skin her body holds all my commandments
she is here but impossible to believe in like a dolphin dead by drowning
we topped the hill and the moose shuffled off the road ran beside the car like… no. like… no. like… and then gone
my hands fall open like a book of mourning
hank williams no show jones sit down and have a beer before you play your final set
a black cat crossing everyones path my body has no fixed address
(4kl)
i mouth something into your belly more than words pool in your navel
now just where the hell did you come from dear god your buildings named shangri la
de da my friends say but sometimes life is even wankier than poetry
moonshine and these milkwrapped dunes your naked back in the bed beside me
whodve thought id find some sexualspiritualthang baby if the korans a rockin…
so here i am the dyslexic blues singer finally unemployed by all this happi fuckingness
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SENTINEL POETRY (ONLINE) #31, JUNE 2005. ISSN 1479-425X |