The Ear Whispered Adultery

prophets wear hand-painted signs and sit in the back of buses advertising paradise some wear gold rings on fingers and count money the dream returns mother nature shows me that her kiss thrusting trust is forbidden knowledge of desire flamenco dancers dead soldiers marching through white stone collects cold silence in the sweat of illusion we touch the agony words drained of their blood is a frightening proposition of desire we speak of tiny morsels savored like wine in the ear whispered adultery gray films moving through bones devoid of worms sleeping in apartments frightened residents look out through tiny peepholes as disheveled people on shoulders of roads hold card-board signs beside skinny dogs begging passing cars for crumpled notes with dead faces