Apr 12, 2014


Slag mist
& piped wondering
gods shuddering &
spitting & swallowing
their children whole for
to excrete greasy
simulacra & disintegrating
embellishments for the dead
alive tombs that are
the apogee of this
filthy stupid skiffle.

Pastel cloth lost
in the umber
paramilitary cogwork
& iron anathema
pumping veins ,the shrill
broadcast of expiring
plastic, noxious coughs
of foremen huge
& slippery & stinking
of the last lousy light
of these days.
Ten-fold toxic marsh in heels, 
I have no sludge rights, 
 but I keep moving. I've cried 
smoke & oil, flag diseases; 
it's never still, the absurd fog.

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