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Harry Gross Mar 2010
Late morning after dreaming of these
hand-written Alaskan three-dollar bills
Polaroid photographs of empty silver screens
hidden elevator button escape routes
mid-performance ****** reconstructions
I half-wake from my half-sleep and in seventy-five-cent consciousness
beg the man of my waking misconceptions to meet for one more
one more double latte Marlboro 27 kiss behind the parking lot than we’d ever had
before we part again and he will reunite with his lunchmeat of holiday hopes and aspirations
And I will return to
the land of brotherless love and flaming heterosexuals
the land of ugly **** and self-righteous queers
the land where there is no God because I chased him from the West before he could do me harm
the land filled with my pity and inebriated mindless self-perpetuation
the land consumed with no passion because the Yukon’s landscape eyes are bleak and empty
the land where the only direction is floating down-river to the blood-stained rocks of our maturity
still within my mental prison with my other mental inmates and mental shanks and *****
I dream again with my eyes wide open and lips drawn in two-tier lonely grimace
dream of the blue green red-eyed beauty that I have never known
A L Davies Oct 2011
the girl (buena‼) slicing my 300g of lunchmeat ham behind
the IGA meat counter & the ham itself,
now limp lying dismal in the frontseat with the runs of fat
ghostly thru the deliwrap.
cup of cold coffee,
intersection to-ings & fro-ings in the street
and the traffic lights blinking
now green floodlamp colour spilling across pavement.
the crooning on the radio,
the moth hurling itself 'gainst the windshield
rap-tap-tapping to get in
(to grasp that blinding bugfire warmth of the cablight)
. . .the open book & its scrawlingsprawling pages
on the dash.

the church meeting keeping my pops &
[me waiting]
also my wanting to go home/(****)/sleep
. . .
ahh it's all inconsequential tho---
nothing really matters in old zen-ness kiddo.
car poems 2 -- some truth in nighttime musing
Curtis May 2016
Well i didnt sleep
This morning i had cookies to eat
I forgot my sandwich with the lunchmeat

Im at work i start in ten minutes
Its gonna be hard to make it to the finish

Ill make it through
And when i do
Ill get home and sleep myself new
"SIR! How do we silence anxiety? Sir."

Welcome to the new era,
A-dread-alized Motivation

We Swept concrete
under bombshelter rugs

Wept skyscraper scaffolding
Twin tears down construction worker cheekbones.
Dangling off plywood
Staring at their lunchmeat
In silliphane
Placing it back
Closing their eyes

The sun rise past the construction
Shone red and yellow
Orange and black
War in the winds

We all knew that there could be only one thing to silence the Trembling fingers
still left shaking
from the resurrection
of our ancesters sins.

The uncertainty of our nationalism,
or ability to breathe. A tragedy
to bond us. Glued
to the severance of anxiety horizens.
"The New Era"
Stapled to the door frame.

Green now in the sky
They painted the missiles gold
so we'd know who sent them.

Waves came
Tore cartilage from the floor boards.
Fires came
Swept veins up in the smoke
a plague would have come,  
but the world glazed over with laughter.

labeled allergies a
coping mechanism
in the face of cataclysm
We swore at each other
Didn't blame god.
For once

This time we didn't want to curse
gods name that way.
Not when we knew our aggressor

The rich had bombshelter elbows
The beautiful had lips like
plane tickets

You stand accused of revolution
Influence,
motivation, rebellion!
PAYING ATTENTION
What do you have to say for yourself?

Says Judge Judy.
to the artists.
All of them.

Shackled in front of ovens,
Brothers and Sisters of rainbow skin

Motivators aren't needed when you're "Silencing Anxiety" She says.

A general in the white house asks:
"They're all too loud.
How do we unleash genocide
for a whole generation?"
And this *******,
Gaunt in the corner?
Says suicide.

— The End —