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Tongues Like Dragons, have no Speach.

Gray Sky modeled, a Leaf on its Falling, And thus tenaciously wounded, a slow and Bitter Abandon Crashes, Past Churches among Coals And Faces lined, tunneled by ants, cicadas The mouths of Sad dead Men. Gray Sky tears Into Dirt, Cars and Old Women Flying, My legs Wobbling, Noodle Like Churning Air and Dirt into Butter. Gasping relaxed Depravity, Eyes of Bulging broken Connections, Tasting tongues of insulated Iron Rising higher, Higher, Still Red—Slim, Long to the Sky Fifty Feet, A Hundred, The Nothing of Where Sky, Was, Filled in by a Forest of Red Bloomed Licks. My Mouth Closed Tightly, Holding Leviathan Inside. I Stumble Back, Truck Bound, but Falter, Finding Telephone Pole, Penetrating it, Sodomy like, Through the Rear. Hands Writhe, Grasping, Reaching, I Clasp my Mouth and Break Free. The Voices rising From Mouths no longer their Own… I Cannot Describe… Newborn Violet? The Desperate Thirst of a thousand harlot Bedrooms? Vowels Drowned in Starving Mackerel congealed Eyes? This, All of this, Is beyond me. Simply infinite Air, Spearing Life and Earth, Struck, Dense and with Cold Constancy. Today …The Day Has Died. The Knife of half-destroyed Churches Bite Deep, Each leaf, Hunger, Phosphor’ ant Fire-Fly Eye of Darkness--- ----As They Fall. I However, Let them Take me from Within. Forsaken interrupted Hands Growing, Source-less Laments Turning Shadows to Anti-Life. The World, now, some measureless Dream, One long Abandoned Funeral Voyage to Nowhere. Great Pale Cows of Tomorrow Rain Black Milk While they Float to the nothing of the now ground-speared Sky. Exasperated Winter, Oh, Dark Color of Sinfully used Blankets . Filthy Lightening Bolts and Dung Covered Clouds, The Horizon reeks of an Oil Field. Spark, Spark, Lighting a Match, To keep God warm, That mewling Majestic Infant of the Sky. (Ssssscrush) (Whooosh) And one Long Holy (Kaboom!) -thend-

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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