Affronted, Northeast
Portland
Even, the basement was empty, the
Sounds of trickling would inject into the
Gutters. The sounds unpleasant to the leafless eye, apart
From the needs of yours truly, Mr. Destruction Enthusiast. What are these
lips
Trying to say? Frankly, the elucidation does not ratify your sermon.
But who is to blame in the first place? Your Soul Provider? The crooning
Homeless just blocks away from your temporary residence?!
…I cower
…I crouch
…I crawl
Alone in the grass hills, the wall returning the ball. You
Call out to imaginary players, wishing, “vamoose, vamoose!” as
They randomly drop anchor.
Making headway, pushing on from unwashed carpets. If you feel
So obliged to understand, remember this: You are burning away
In a land of guilt, your feet are a Roman spring in the sand, all but to
Petrified to swim away. My friend, do not feel accompanied by gentle hands.
Exhale with half a breath and let the tide weep in your wake.
Toxin-Laced Letter
Step into the light once
More for the benefit of your own speculation.
Down under the lights on the street fabricate
Your dawn-to-dark, destined to be taken in the mask
Of a growing dependency. Observe much? Shed the
Twilight in the making of times. Memories
To play for, when there are no more clouds to bombard.
I take an Image and make the weight gain more to wake up the
Connecting temptation.
This slope of a process.
A spiral buried in the sand.
Troublemaker’s sight
The gesture and awaken to the fountain of youth,
Fixing their tries. Are you ever inquisitive about what you channel?
The escape of a lost cause, defining the moments in unison, hanging up.
I encountered the same situation tonight under a black dome. Little holes,
Spectacles of light.
I came home a simple man.
Democratic Rash
I’m marinating naked, in the early mourning,
Preparing the frost to bite into the future
Of my brides trauma.
Leaking.
Yes, a word must describe the synthesis
Of my possessed polarity, scratching notes from a Polaroid era.
Since history has set their feet into
The Throne,
It hibernates. We can make
The stature racist and ill tempered
A sad willow in the wind.
Democratic Rash- I’ll scratch if you spread.