Wednesday, July 23, 2014

eastvan pictographs


 contingent upon a new theatrical rendering
from west coast reduction, the stink continues...

mainlining to the sweet bone of contention,
locking the metal door behind irreversible lives...

 popsicle head's off to the crewlest cut of all
rolling down the commercial grade of sharpshooters...

before they carve her up in her fattened state,
a farcical warning on the fence in driedberry blood...

in the event that she is still missing nearby
such missives must be obeyed beyond the pale...

and so must he, a legionnaire of foreign means
wasted on the back stairs of mitigated loyalty to the queen

having a piece of rust toast smeared with milk flames
torn from the corrugated trunk of her stomping grounds...

when does it stop, this whirring craziness landing
upon the concrete implications of the imperfect domicile


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