Heads adorned in plastic thorns
Teeter
Side-long across the neighbor’s dead
Lawn//:tongue-******* the anthill
Orifices.busy little workers for a
Long-dead god.


It’s an arms race out here
It’s race wars in their
Char broiled
Minds

It’s kindness, broken evermore .
Ring around the rosy-faced, ****-eating grins//:We all fall
Down.

The stairs still splinter out dry laughter, muffled in the gloaming plaster
Hall -
Spackle-rough to the cracked fingers running along those century old idiosyncrasies
I, belly-hurt to the passage and the passing of it
All.
I return there from excessively average physical distance _yet from many dynastic   Wheelings of
Contemplative
Removal.

A broken thing
And
I, the faithless
Steward -
Throneless
Amidst haunted
Kingdoms of a dismembered corpse-god
And other short
Stories


With threadbare
Memory of
Patterned bedsheets crumpled in perfect modelposed gesture of blissful entropy, the
Nearby school stadium spotlights still send tower beacons into the mist of the night
The cars still slur by in the wet black
Crackle and
Hiss
Destroying the fidelity of other songs in
Perfect, humming

Obfuscation .




Void-fellow, home
.

On the cusp of infinite knowledge
The human race
Shadow dances at the cleft
Face
Of the mountain

Daring the pits below
To invite it into belonging
There

Yet still reaching outwards
Embracing me one last time before
Flying.


Inviting me to hope and love
Again
After such fimbulwintr years as it has
Been

Now comes the third spring
And the dawn of
Soft eyes fluttering
Open


We shall
See.

Or

We shall see…

Than a
Perfectly
Machined
Enigma .

As the gun
Rolls of the countertop
In the
Cyber cafe

Blue
Sky dome
We
Roam
With entangled
Groans

And the saxophone
And the saxophone

Fill your spaceship
With things you will want and need

Me and my space dog
Shoot on and
On.