Apr 2, 2012

The Smoky Rose of Dawn Above

The smoky rose of dawn above
            the second city of absence,
                                                quiet streets
                                                ERROR 404
                        in the shunned time,
the unseen
            visible in the lonely train—
builders, cleaners, only Jesus
            & McDonalds prowl the swirling eddies
of bright cold trash—WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE
            YOU in the pantomime of Athenian
                        democracy flattened amongst the parade
            of impossible placard women
who inhabit someone’s fabricated
            evening, who balk at this
            the hour of the misplaced—sheenless
                        among shitty diapers & Styrofoam peanuts.

                        What even the champion somnambulist
            will wake to—
                        work, age, the quotidian
            a bleeding limb inside the haute
knockoff jumper—trash collectors scouring
the curbs in search of some kind of relief,
            the answer is there
                        between metal teeth,
buried or flushed out to sea,
            clogging the world with its urgency.

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