Uploaded dice, bad happenstance whoever
Is met, folding arms and armchairs, harmless
Pamphlets citing religious nostrums half-
Baked into a queasy pie. Entice, shy.
Stillborn verse in overall pockets fingered
With shamed recall falling one, two, three, four ….
Then bonked on the noggin with Moses’ number ten,
Next door’s ox avoiding the broad light.
Ghosts of tomorrow, divulge your itinerary
And sail into my living coffin, green and sour
With rank algae oscillating like piano keys
A cloistered Dostoyevskyan hammers in mad clusters.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment