September 2011
7 posts
Fuck Bank of America
lol #2 (finding old things is fun)
My hands at the throat of a concrete slab.
My nails in the chest of a stagnant mosquito bed.
My feet treading in the blood of a stale, coagulated and settled polycarbonate thermoplastic pane—tinted.
lol
nerves of
marino wool,
have been rent—
alligator shear—
for they’ve been mistaken for scrap.
discarded,
jettisoned into the jaws of a devil—
surviving,
emerging—
i guess—
malfigured (disfigured)
dripping skins into mud gutters.
strengthen my sheep,
to raise my ram.
horns, ivory—
still—
meat, lackluster (and pus-filled I guess)—
browned, really.
vile and burnt.
dead cells in nails
in negligent spells of
dysthymia.
may thine eyes
be adust
subsequent to sailing ewes’
ruptured waves.
