Apr 6, 2013


Dogspeed in the horse
dream, claptrap
of hooves & sprightly
air.  Down the dirt
line like a dart, air
in your gift-mouth
like a bit for Trismegistos,
ridden by Black
Madonna, full up
with pearls for pigs
& Trojans.  Say you are
chased by the illest
wind, jumping like Jack
over the steeple so high.
We all want one thing,
the same thing as
everyone else.  Everybody
runs: for office, for
an orifice, for dirty money
& clean clothes, like tears
or the stocking itself,
wedding garters
on the money. The gun’s
cracked now go
go go.

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