frail
fragile feelings failing
the
fermentation of a fall
i
recall
but
i cannot remember
early
evenings in late september
images
emasculating egrets
the
great white crane
spreading
its wings
like
an unfettered chain
there
is no deception in flight
just
ascension toward the light
even
the howling wind
acts
as an aid to wings
it’s
all a matter of perspective
mirrors
reflective
trent
reznor has nothing on me
well,
except for money, girls
and
all the good drugs
the
devil read the tabloid
scandal
surrounding lamar odom
scoffed,
“that’s a tuedsay for me”
when
will the addict ache free
a
drug of choice is just appreciation
you’re
an addict if you’ll accept
whatever’s
available
placards
placed in proper positions
a
guest never controls
their
place at the table
conduits
ghost inside a cable
carrying
images you’ll only see
when
you waste with your t.v.
a
song is a syllable
in
the discography of time
for
her morning is a bowl full
of
miracles
i
watch her savor each slurp
usurp
the darkness
that’s
still dangling in the dawn
succulent
prawns basted in butter
i
utter the tao
of
flesh, cracked shells, tearing teeth
i’m
a thief
who
feels nothing’s worth stealing
i
once wrote that the sun
is
a hole ripped in the fabric
of
the sky leaking blue unto
a
three dimensional canvas
i
am not marred by madness
jane
says there’s always an addiction
love’s
a hard thing to let go of
when
it’s the only way
you
can get high
i
found a ferret in the sky
he
was bored because he
couldn’t
dig any holes
to
hide in
i
dangle at a direct angle
above
dancers emanating bliss
a
raincoat without rain
is
a stain on the secrets
of
the sun
but
i could never bring
myself
to frolic
apostolic
in my attitude
about
acting foolish
while
i envy
the
light hearted lyric
you
know you’re bad off
when
you think poe
really
wasn’t dark
noah’s
ark
would
have check marked
poe,
side by side
as
having a place inside
i
deride from deep inside
the
language and the laughter
i
am neither sex
or
the cigarette after
but
i will ignite the cigarette
with
my flame
i’m
bored with basket weaving
but
i need a container
for
the fruit of my sustenance
ringing
bells of substance
but
no one goes to church anymore
the
bells implore participation
with
a pew
but
all the few
have
already been chosen
even
sticky fingers do not
enable
me to crawl
the
sides of buildings
no
one escapes gravity
even
astronauts can crash
find
the planet of the apes
that
rapes our realization
our
required resistance
for
a field of ideals
planted
and harvested long ago
as
the only crop we’ll ever need
fallow
fields will never feed
the
foraging multitude
i’ve
feasted on all the foods
of
the world
and
found none to my liking
so
in my nightly hiking
hopping
from food truck
to
food truck
it
is neither desire or luck
between
the plate and my pallet
which
is why i rarely eat
though
i’m always ingesting
throne
room jesting
in
front of the court
i
sport a tattered coat
among
kings and queens
sight
unseen
because
no one is laughing
“hark”
the herald angels sing
joy
and good tidings bring
but
only the shepherd
saturated
in silence can hear
the
devil is and always will be
a
gentleman
he
looked me in the eyes
asked
me what i most desired
i
replied
“a
duet with david duchovny”
i
don’t want to share a microphone
i
just want to atone
for
my lack of a live performance
maybe
i can stop doing penance
in
the purgatory of art
i
might have found
a
different sound
echoing
around an amphitheater
applause
casting a vote
for
something i wrote
i
say goodbye with a quote
“you’re
all a bunch of idiots”
even
the faithful offended
i’m
upended
tossed
out on the sidewalks of
the
dark streets of decay
to
walk alone
you
know
a
lot like now
***
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