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This city is haunted
And the dead roll snowmen by streetlight
Holding their translucent hands over the bulbs
When they hear the living cars chug through

Here, music plays to itself
Jackaling the wind
Holding wolves by the ears
The dead give their sculptures
Strawberries for *******

The living laugh and point
To the shoe tree
The dead have made with old sneakers
Their children climb and live in
At night

Under this tree
Joining them in the frozen mud
Turn to ice
We travel on the wind more easily that way
Splitting our bones
Like vultures
This city sleeps
In flames
Daisy King Nov 2013
TIME

to
wake

UPROAR
DOWNPOUR

The Beast
(the bed)
(the floor)
......


BE QUIET
&
Do Not Dare
RE QUIRE
for fear
for fear
for fear

Here is a list of things I can hear: outside
air circles (I hate circles but they don't sound how they look) and
sirens
-
-
-
Dear whoever is up there, or wherever,
whomever is pushing the buttons
and pulling the levers
please make the person or people
calling for sirens
okay, amen


Even though I don't believe in that sort of thing
(really, I don't know what I believe in
except my own limitations to believing)
I still say that in my head whenever I hear a siren
like a sort of prayer
just in case
for some reason
if I don't, they won't arrive on time
just in case
I'm the one pushing buttons and pulling levers.
Amen.
-
-
-
Back to sounds: stomach growling, leaves chattering
broad and jackaling, something creaks
a distant monster
........
.....
...
..
The Beast

Don't let it in.
Don't let it win.
Left wing
Thing
Thin

Think

What's left?

sirens

all the

Time
Using Michael McClure's Mysterioso as an inspiration and writing in imitation. It was a fun experiment!

— The End —